


To Catch a Thief

by DKGwrites



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Art Thief AU, Comedy, F/F, LGBTQ, NB Alex Danvers, Not a lot of Brania, Rojas Corp is brief and not positive, SuperCorp, SuperCorp Big Bang 2020, brania, no powers, references to past trauma/loss, theft in the art world due to colonization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 82,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKGwrites/pseuds/DKGwrites
Summary: Kara (security expert), Alex (art recovery agent), Sam (authenticator), and Winn (IT) launch into an investigation of a daring thief who commits crimes in broad daylight and stages them to embarrass the victims. As they work to recover the art, they find details in the thief's thefts that shed them in a slightly different light. Finding the identity of the thief will be a double-edged sword. Reforming the thief will be a lifetime's work.
Relationships: Alex Danvers & Kara Danvers, Jess & Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Lena Luthor/Andrea Rojas, Querl Dox/Nia Nal, Samantha "Sam" Arias/Alex Danvers
Comments: 124
Kudos: 205
Collections: Supercorp Big Bang 2020





	1. I'm Sexy and I Gnome It

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequel that gives the full backstory to a short piece of mine: It Takes a Thief. https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685974  
> They are standalone pieces, so you don't have to read one to understand the other. I had originally written them meaning for It Takes a Thief to go first, but it doesn't matter. Read them in any order or only read one of them.  
> I would have liked to have expanded this fic a bit more. I feel like it could use another chapter of relationship development, but deadlines exist. I hope the pacing isn't too off.

The Asian Art Museum has been theft-free since it’s opening in 1966… until today. The three-story stone rectangle is a beacon of Asian culture to the people of the area and houses approximately 18,000 works of art from all major Asian countries. Over a third of the art is part of a donation by a lone Gotham billionaire, most of it bequeathed to them in his will. It’s one such piece, the Seated Buddha from the late Han dynasty, whose absence is drawing the attention of the police and insurance investigators alike.

Alex Danvers stands on the second-story, pillar-lined balcony, their gaze sweeping the streets below. As an art recovery specialist, Alex is often called in by the insurance company to try and regain a lost piece and mitigate paying a claim. The prior gallery owner had a reputation for excellence, a hard-earned one. When their parents’ business was going belly up after their father’s death, Alex had the option of fighting to keep it afloat or combining their knowledge of art and their degree in criminal science to create a new, more profitable business venture. They chose the latter.

Ever a professional in a dark suit, Alex straightens from peering over the railing and tucks their tie back into their suit. There’s no sign of any repelling device, but this is one possible path of escape that the daring thief could have taken on this otherwise sunny afternoon. However, it isn’t the possible second-story escape that has the thief categorized as daring. No, the theft took place during daytime business hours, and an alarm never even sounded. The entire thing was so wily that it was a school field trip that first discovered the occurrence and reported it to security.

“Hey, I got here as fast as I could. I thought the cops were going to strip-search me even with my credentials. What happened here?”

Alex turns, sighing heavily at the sight of their sister. The elder Danvers sibling pushes back the long red hair on the top of their head, fully revealing the shaved sides. “It was a robbery.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Kara smiles easily. She’s a tall girl with a medium but muscular frame, and about two inches taller than her already taller than average sibling. Where Alex is serious, Kara is bubbly, always ready with a smile or joke. She’s everyone’s best friend with bright blue eyes behind her round glasses and long hair that looks like it was touched by sunshine, much like her personality. “What did they get?”

“Follow me.” As they walk through the museum, guards and police, all on high-alert, nod and let Alex and company pass without objection. They’re close to the middle of the museum when Alex speaks again. “It was a Seated Buddha from the later Zhao dynasty. The museum can’t even give me an estimate on its value.”

“Damn.” Kara’s tone is, if not admiring at least appreciative of the theft. “Where’d they take it from?”

“Right here.” Alex gestures a good twenty feet in front of them toward a pillar that stands about three feet high. It’s surrounded by police who are taking pictures and collecting other physical evidence.

“From here and the cops just got called? Why didn’t the guards notice it was gone this morning?”

“Because it wasn’t,” Alex shoots an incredulous look over their shoulder, “or so the guards swear.”

“You’re not actually saying the piece was stolen while the museum was open, are you?”

Alex shrugs and continues to approach the scene of the crime. “It gets better.”

“How? This is pretty damn wild already.”

“Behold.” Alex holds one hand forward, gesturing toward the pillar in question. As if by magic, a channel through the swarm of police opens, and the view is clear. The Seated Buddha is gone, but the pillar isn’t empty.

Mouth hanging agape, Kara stares at the pillar before closing her mouth with an audible snap. “Is that a… garden gnome?”

“Yup.” The ‘P’ pops.

The garden gnome in question is wearing nothing but a red hat, black boots, and a pair of blue boxers covered in red mushrooms. He’s lying on his right side supported by his elbow with a hand under his head. His other hand rests suggestively (for a garden gnome) on this left hip. Underneath the figure, between it and the base, is what looks like a rabbit pelt, head ears and all, with little X’s where eyes would be. On the base a phrase is carved: ‘I’m Sexy and I Gnome it!’  
A strangling noise breaks free from Kara’s throat.

A noise, too guttural to call a squeak, sneaks out from between Kara’s tightly pressed lips, and even before looking, Alex already knows what it is. “Don’t laugh.”

Bug-eyed and turning red, Kara continues to struggle to control her laughter. Little squeaks and sputters force their way from between her tightly pressed lips.

Alex grabs Kara by the elbow and drags their sister back to the balcony. By the time they get there, Kara has to lean on the railing to keep herself upright.

“It’s not that funny.”

“It really is!” Kara squeals between fits of laughter. “I’m sexy and I gnome it!”

“You need more sleep,” Alex says with a heavy sigh though this is classic Kara, and as much as it’s annoying at the moment, there’s a tiny part inside Alex that will always be grateful to hear their adoptive sister laugh. Kara was brought to them through adversity, and joy was a process that took time. “I did not bring you here to mock the museum’s tragedy. I brought you here as a security professional… emphasis on the word professional.”

Although Kara nods, it’s more than a minute later before she stands upright, silently wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. “Alright, alright, I’m good.”

“You sure because there’s probably someone here you haven’t offended with your behavior. Maybe we could go find the curator, and you could laugh in his face.”

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Kara says even as an errant chuckle slips out, “but you have to admit that was funny as all hell.”

“No.” Alex stares death at their sister who just continues to smile innocently. Eventually, Alex abandons the glare to talk business. “Look, can you be a professional on this job or not?”

“Definitely. That just took me by surprise.”

“Kara, if you’re just going to make jokes the whole time, I don’t—”

“Hey, I get it. This is your reputation. It’s mine too. I can do this.” When Alex doesn’t seem convinced, Kara adds, “Anyway, do you know a better security specialist?”

“No,” Alex admits begrudgingly.

“Exactly. You need me.”

“Fine, but if I catch you making jokes…”

Kara holds up one hand to head-level. “You have my word I will remain 100% professional.”

“You better. This is an important job. Recovering that piece would financially make my company’s quarter.”

Without further discussion, Alex leaves, heading for the stairs, and Kara trots after them.  
“So, have your people started gathering information yet?”

“Nothing from the scene,” Alex admits with a scowl. “We have to wait for the local PD to finish up their onsite investigation, and then my people can have the scene.”

“Who’d you bring in for the job?”

“Winn and Sam.”

“Sam, really?”

“What about her? She’s the best authenticator I have, and she knows more about this period than anyone else in my company. She’s the obvious choice.”

“Yeah, I know but…” Kara bites her lip and then continues. “How’s it going on that front? Are you and Sam—”

“No.”

“Why not, Alex? You two are so hot for each other, it’s painful to watch. For the sake of everyone that has to work with you, Hit. That.”

“Drop it.”

“But I—”

“I said drop it. Sam is my employee, and I’m not crossing that line again.”

Kara looks ready to argue but instead asks, “So, anyone we know from the local PD on this—”

“Drop that too. We’re not talking about my love life.”

“Jeez, you’re a grump. You should have a better outlook. Crime is paying which means business is good.”

“I’m in a good mood. This is me in a good mood.”

“You need to get laid,” Kara mumbles.

“What was that?”

“I said you need to get paid. That will put you in a better mood.”

“Agreed, so let’s recover the art and get a payday, and I don’t mean the candy bar.”

As her stomach rumbles, Kara covers it with her hand. “I’d settle for the candy bar.”

“You and your appetite.” Alex shakes their head as they jog down the stairs. “Hey, how are things going with Lucy?”

“I thought we weren’t talking about our love lives.”

“No, we’re not talking about my love life. You have one, so let’s discuss it. Now, how are you and Lucy?”

Kara shrugs. “We broke up.”

“Really?” They slow to a walking pace as the steps end at a long hallway. “You two seemed like such a great couple. What happened?”

“Eh, I’m on the road all the time, and she’s gotten moved to three different international locations since we started dating, all of them sandy. We’ve had more Skype dates this year alone than actual dates during our whole relationship.”

“Her dad’s a general. Can’t he pull some strings to get her back in the States?”

“Oh, I’m sure he could, but her dad hates me. I’m pretty sure he’s the one that’s keeping her out of the country to keep us apart.”

That garners a heavy frown. “Why because you’re a girl?”

“No, because I’m a Democrat. I thought he was going to shove a hand grenade down my throat when I told him I voted for Obama,” she holds up two fingers, “twice.”

“I’m sorry, Kara. Maybe tonight we can grab some dinner and discuss it.”

“Only if we can talk about your dating life.”

“No.”

“You are such a hypocrite.”

Stopping at a metal door at the end of the hallway, Alex types a code in and pulls the door open when the light turns green. “Yup. It’s the advantage of being born first. I make the sibling rules. Now let’s go introduce you to the security team. I hope you can get more out of these guys than I did.”

The security room is a rectangle with two rolling chairs in front of a rounded-L table. Nine security screens sit along the length of the table, and another eighteen hang from the far wall on the right. To the left is a single door. The design is monotone, all grays and beiges, with nothing to break up the monotony other than a vending machine which stands a few feet away from the interior door and a radio which looks like a small microwave. Two nervous-looking museum guards jump to their feet when the door opens, their gazes drifting from Alex to Kara and back again like they’re a couple of mice who are trying to discern which snake is having them for dinner. In response, Alex’s smile looks a lot more like the baring of teeth.

“I’m Kara Danvers, president of El Mayarah Security Services, and I take it you met my sibling already.”

The men nod, their eyes as big as saucers.

“Well, the good news is I’m the nice one because if I wasn’t…” She gestures with her head twice toward her sibling. “Sheesh, right? Anyway, are you the guys who were on shift in here this morning?”

One of the guys, an older man who’s short, pudgy, and balding, nods. “I’m Smitty, and this is Jason. We were both in the booth this morning.”

“And is this your usual shift?”

Both men nod.

“Anything unusual happen, outside of the theft, I mean.”

“Nah, it was the same old, same old,” Jason replies, his adam’s apple sticking out predominantly from his long, thin neck and bobbing as he swallows. “We met outside the room and went in together. We both swiped our badges, and Lenny and Karen, they’re the shift before us, swiped out. Their report was that it was just another boring night. Then we sat down and started to eat our breakfasts while we worked, same as always.”

Kara nods and heads over to the interior door. “What’s in here?”

“The crapper,” Jason replies.

Kara pulls the door open, immediately recoiling and slamming it closed to fight back the wave of miasma that threatens to overtake her. “Crapper is right. Did the pipes back up or something?”

Smitty blushes and ducks his head.

“Nah, Smitty here had a bad case of the Montezuma's revenge, if you know what I mean.”

“My breakfast burrito didn’t agree with me. It’s not a crime. We’ll see how regular you are when you’re my age.”

“Hold on, Smitty, were you in the booth when the alarm sounded?” Kara asks.

“Yeah, well, I was in the bathroom, but I’m allowed to use it during shift.”

Hands in fists, Alex steps forward. It doesn’t take much to set them off, and this slight variation in the story is enough to do it. “So there was only one of you at the monitors?”

As both men cringe, Kara places a hand on her sibling’s shoulder. “Hey, let me do my job. That’s why you brought me here.”

“I asked them earlier, Kara, I asked them if either of them left their stations, and they said no.”

“Alex, I got this. Back off.”

The battle of the wills is short, and perhaps surprisingly, it’s the elder Danvers who nods and steps away.

“Thank you. So, Smitty, you said your breakfast burrito didn’t agree with you. Was that your only trip to the restroom while you were on shift today?”

“Nah, my gut was really twisted up. I musta been in and out of the can a half-dozen times.”

“In an hour and a half?” Alex asks. When Kara shoots them an accusing glare, Alex looks away. “Sorry.”

Kara nods and returns her attention to the men. “A half-dozen times in an hour and a half? Why didn’t you go home sick?”

“I covered one of Karen’s shifts this weekend, and I’d lose my overtime if I went home sick.” There’s a loud grumble, more like a growl, from Smitty’s abdomen, and he covers it with his hand and squirms. “Ahhhh.”

“Just go.” Kara gestures toward the bathroom with her head, and Smitty hurries to comply. She allows her gaze to wander the room, finally walking over to the radio on a nearby shelf and turning it on. Immediately, a disk jockey’s voice comes over the radio, talking about an accident on the Belt Parkway which has been severely impacting that morning commute but is finally cleared up. Kara frowns and turns away from the radio. “This isn’t from this area. This isn’t even from California. What station is this?”

“Kiss FM out of Metropolis,” Jason says, “but we’re allowed to listen to the radio. We can’t use our cellphones or any screens, but the radio is fine. It’s in the handbook.”

“This is an internet radio?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Maybe nothing. I’m not sure yet.” Kara taps at her lower lip, her brows furrowed as she seems lost in thought.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” Alex asks.

“I don’t know, I just… Jason, at any point when Smitty was in the restroom this morning, did anything happen to distract you from the monitors?”

“Besides the alarm?”

“Besides the alarm.”

Jason’s gaze wavers between the siblings. “... no.”

“You hesitated.” Alex rushes toward the man. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“Alex, you need to chill out!” Kara steps between her sibling and the guard, physically blocking Alex’s progress. “I know you think the best way to get information is to dangle someone out a window by their tie—”

“That was one time!”

“But asking nicely can be a good strategy for getting information too. Now watch and learn.” Kara gently nudges Alex back before turning to Jason and smiling. “No one is saying you did anything wrong, but Alex is right, you hesitated. Tell us what happened today that might have distracted you from the screens for just a teensy little moment.”

Jason licks his lips and glances nervously over at the closed bathroom door. “You can’t tell anyone,” he whispers.

“Jason, if it has something to do with the theft—”

“No, no way. This is a good thing, but I don’t want it getting out. I’ve heard of people going bankrupt when this happens.”

“When what happens?”

“I hit the lottery,” Jason whispers.

Kara glances back at Alex who groans and takes a small walk around the room, hands on her hips. “Jason, are you sure you hit the lottery?”

“Absolutely. I listened to them read the numbers this morning. I got all of them. That’s over 800 million dollars, before taxes, split with my brother. I’m putting in my resignation as soon as my shift ends.” The smile falls off Jason’s face. “Wait, that’s going to look suspicious now, isn’t it?”

“No one won the lottery last night, you idiot,” Alex snaps.

“Not here, but my brother lives in Metropolis, and every time the jackpot hits a certain amount in either state, we play both sets of our lucky numbers.”

“You always play the same numbers?”

“Always, look.” Jason digs out his phone and turns it on, then goes into his texts until he gets to an image of a small piece of paper. “See, this is the ticket my brother and I bought. We always take a picture of the ticket and send it to each other. If he buys it, I check the radio in the morning, my favorite Metropolis station. If I buy it, he listens to it live that night.”

“But you need to wait for the recap,” Kara says.

“Yeah, I’m in bed by the time they pick the numbers. My shift here starts at 6 AM.”

“Let me see his ticket,” Alex says as they approach, their own phone in hand. Their gaze goes to his phone then back to their own before they deadpan, “You got zero numbers.”

“No way.” He grabs Alex’s hand with their phone in it, only to have them snatch it back.

“Watch it. I’ve broken people’s fingers for less.”

“Just let him see the screen, Alex.”

Begrudgingly, Alex holds out her phone. The expression that crosses Jason’s face is a journey through misery that lands in despair.

“But… but… the radio said—”

“Oh, someone told you something across your radio, alright. How the hell did they know when Smitty would be in the bathroom?”

“They must have dosed his burrito,” Alex says.

“Definitely, but how would they know exactly when he’d be in there? This took some specific timing.”

As if summoned by his name, Smitty returns, the smell of lilac air freshener layered over a gastrointestinal exodus wafting into the room after him and hanging like a miasma. “Ugh, how am I not empty?”

“Oh, my God!” Alex grabs the lapel of their suit, pulling it up and over their mouth and nose. “How are you not dead?”

“For all our sakes, close the door,” Kara pleads.

“It’s not that bad,” Smitty says, but he obliges and closes the door.

“I would disagree. It’s like two crimes happened in the museum today, and the second one was in that bathroom.”

Kara nods in agreement with her sibling’s assessment and begins to explore the room. She climbs on a chair to check light fixtures, examines the molding, checks behind the monitors, and even picks up the radio.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks.

“I’m trying to figure out how they did it.” Finally, Kara turns her attention to the vending machine. “Where’d you get this?”

“Uh, it was a gift,” Smitty says.

“Someone gave you a vending machine?” Alex asks, the suspicion clear in their voice.

“Some patron of the arts society group sent it to us as a thank you for protecting all the valuables.”

“And who loads it?” Kara asks as she runs her fingers along the edges.

“We do,” Smitty says. “We can’t have anyone come in here who isn’t cleared, so we get deliveries every other week and load it ourselves.”

Kara looks sharply back at him. “You have the key?”

“It’s on the top of the machine.”

Kara checks along the top, pulling back her hand with the keys. She opens the machine and begins to poke around inside. There’s an array of candy bars, chips, and snack cakes, and nothing stands out as unusual. She runs her hand along the interior of the metal lip starting in one corner, going down, and making a complete circuit.

“What are you looking for?” Alex asks.

“This.” Kara pulls out a small lens, the wiring still intact and disappearing somewhere inside the top of the machine. “It’s a camera. Someone’s been watching this place for… When did you say you got this?”

“Like six months ago,” Jason replies. “How could no one notice that this whole time?”

“A good question, but a better one would be,” Kara looks directly into the camera, “who the hell are you?”


	2. Green Eyes and Ruby Lips

In a private room in one of the most luxurious penthouses in National City is a secret wall. A particular hand pressed against the right panel slides that wall open to reveal a single pillar illuminated from above. The Seated Buddha, in all its splendor, rests proudly on display under a glass case. Smirking red lips part to press against a wine glass and leave their imprint behind. Even as the panel slides closed, the green eyes of the beholder sparkle with some seemingly private joke.


	3. All-Knowing is not All-Telling

“Where the hell is he?” Alex taps their foot, looking down at the time on their phone again. “Why is he always late?”

“Why are you always surprised when he’s late?”

At the woman’s voice, Alex turns and straightens up to their full height, running one hand through their hair in a reflexive grooming movement. They’re not trying to impress. They’re not. It’s business, just business. Who are they trying to convince? “Sam, glad you made it. How was your flight?”

“The peanuts were better than the movie,” the tall brunette replies as she stops by Alex and pushes down the handle on her wheeled, carryon bag. Sam carries the stress from a long plane trip with a ridiculous level of grace. Truth be told, she manages everything with a ridiculous level of grace. It’s one of the characteristics that makes her so damn attractive. “Your sister told me this one was wild, but she wouldn’t give me any more details on the ride over. She sure knows how to keep a girl on the edge.”

Alex clears their throat and looks away from Sam’s smirk as they try to ignore the heat growing in their center. That’s a normal reaction, a completely normal one, when an objectively attractive coworker is in your presence. Feelings aren’t being caught. They’re being swatted away like balls in a tennis match… anything to avoid a score of love. Getting back to business, they gesture over their shoulder with their head. “Come see for yourself.”

The police have cleared out, leaving the crime site for museum security and other specialists. One uniformed police officer remains near the taped-off area, and he nods in acknowledgment as Sam and Alex approach. He lifts the tape so they can more easily sneak underneath.

Just inside the tape, Sam pauses. “Is that a garden gnome?”

“You’re not going to start laughing like a hyena, are you? I had to take Kara outside when she saw it.”

“Ladies do not laugh like hyenas.”

“Obviously.” Hands on their hips, Alex rocks back and forth as they observe the scene now free of police. It gives a better view, better in that it’s easier to see but not in the results. This still looks like a senior prank successfully played against millions of dollars worth of security. It’s the kind of thing that would make Ferris Bueller proud. “The statue that was here was stolen in broad daylight. The alarms didn’t even go off. A school field trip found the gnome and alerted staff. So, what do you think?”

Sam circles the gnome, her red dress swishing as she moves. She crouches and brushes a few strands of her long hair behind one ear as she examines the scene. She’s elegant standing still but even more so when she moves… not that Alex has ever noticed personally. It’s just that museums and galleries appreciate someone with Sam’s expertise paired with the way she presents herself. It’s the complete package and Alex respects Sam’s package. It’s a package Alex is admiring when Sam sighs and says, “I’d say it runs around $18.99 on Amazon.”

“I’m not asking you to appraise the piece of crap, Sam. What do you make of the MO? Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“Maybe.” Sam finishes her circle around the pillar to stand by Alex again. “Exactly what was taken?”

“The Seated Buddha.”

“Late Han Dynasty?”

“And that’s why you’re here,” Alex grins because as good as Sam looks and as much as there could be something here if circumstances were different, when it comes to this period of art, Alex doesn’t know anyone better. “Someone took a priceless work of art, replaced it with a cheap trinket, and no one noticed. How?”

“That I can’t tell you, but I’ve heard of a similar MO.”

“Locally?”

Sam shakes her head. “In Persia. Are you familiar with the Noor-ul Ain?” 

“Never heard of it.”

“Allow me to educate you. The Noor-ul Ain is a sixty-carat pink diamond mounted in the front of a crown. The whole thing, the crown with all of the gems in it, was stolen from the Iranian Crown Jewel collection.”

“What about that makes you think it might have been perpetrated by the same thief?”

“Because left in its place was a plastic tiara with the words ‘Bride to Be’ spelled out in rhinestones. That was almost three years ago, and the Iranian government still has no leads.”

Alex covers their mouth and breathes out the words, “Fuck me.”

Sam grins. “Well, if you—”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Winn calls out as he stumbles toward the other two, a large satchel hanging on each shoulder, the straps crisscrossing his chest. He’s a bit of a fidget, not quite as tall as Sam and with a permanent five o’clock shadow over his prominent jaw. He’s sporting a cardigan sweater, as usual, which does nothing to dispel that image of a thirty-year-old caught somewhere between man and boy in maturity. “What did I miss? Catch me up.”

“You’re late,” Alex replies.

“My bike got a flat. They don’t make AAA for twelve-speeds.”

“Kara could have picked you up.”

“No thanks. Her truck is even worse on gas than your SUV. Hey, is that a garden gnome? What kind of museum is this?”

“Apparently, our thief left that when he absconded with a piece of art,” Sam explains. “Alex and I are going to do some research for similar crimes. Kara said she’d be in the security office, which is...”

“Down those stairs, into the basement, door at the end of the hallway,” Alex directs. “She found a camera hidden in a vending machine there. I’m sure she’d love to have your help with the security tapes.”

“Garden gnomes and spyware vending machines?” Winn grins. “This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”

“It’s Monday,” Alex says flatly.

“It’s still true.” With a little wave, Winn trots away, huffing and puffing by the time he gets to the door at the end of the hallway. He knocks and waits, smiling when Kara opens the door a few moments later. “Nice museum like this couldn’t put in an elevator?”

“They have two in the areas where the patrons are allowed to go,” Kara replies as Winn walks past her into the room. “Jason, this is Winn. He’s Alex’s tech nerd. Winn, this is Jason. He was one of the guards on duty when it all went down. The other guard, Smitty, went home sick.”

“That sounds suspicious.”

“Seriously, you didn’t smell what was coming out of him. Be glad for that.” 

Winn and Jason exchange brief pleasantries while Winn unloads his bags onto the floor near the desk. He pulls a laptop out of one of them and slaps a cable on top of it. “Okay, I need to plug into your system. Let’s see how you were hacked.”

“There’s no way that our system…” Jason cuts himself off with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, okay. Our IT department is going to have a communal stroke over this.”

“RIP IT Department,” Winn says as he plugs in his system and starts to type. “Kara, give me the rundown on what we know so far.”

“You saw the gnome?”

Looking over his shoulder, Winn grins. “Yeah.”

“I know, right?” Kara says with a responding smile. “Whoever did this, they have a sense of humor. Anyway, that wasn’t there when the museum opened this morning. Near as we can tell, the thief was watching this room through this little beauty.” Kara holds out the small camera she had found earlier.

“It was in the vending machine?”

“Yup, which has been here for right around six months, so our thief got a good idea of the schedules of the guards and how they acted in the booth here. The thief picked their time and target based on what they’d seen.”

As he types, Winn lets out a slow whistle. “That’s the long game. I respect the attention to detail. Wouldn’t a night-time heist have been easier?”

“Maybe? Probably? This was probably done early in the morning, maybe first thing after opening, when there would be fewer patrons here. Still, they took a hell of a chance. We’ve got to assume the risk was part of the thrill.”

“So we’ve got ourselves a thrill-seeker.” Winn pauses, frowning. “I found something.”

“What?”

“Some taped surveillance was inserted, and the date was changed.”

“How?”

“I don’t know that yet, but I can hear the sound of an entire IT department heading to the hospital. What I can tell you is that the tape they used was from a year ago today.”

“Makes sense. The light would be the same, and everyone’s clothing would be appropriate unlike if you pulled something from the winter. You might end up with people wearing sweaters or even boots.”

Winn nods. “Whoever did this was good, Kara. I mean really good. It looks like they put a worm in the system that automatically ran the security from a year earlier and changed the date. From the way this is written, they could have activated it any day and it would have had the result of dialing back the date 366 days.”

“Why 366?”

“It’s a leap year.”

“Of course. They did this directly onto the video?” Kara asks.

“Yeah, everything is digital now. Images are just spreadsheets, and each pixel is three cells. You ever change the color of something on a document and have to match the colors with the corresponding RGB code?”

“Yeah, sure. I did it with some marketing pieces to match my logo.”

“Exactly. Well, those three color codes blend together to make a pixel. Any screen today is really just showing you lots and lots of excel spreadsheets changing really quickly.”

“Even my phone?”

“Yup, even your TV. I bet you didn’t know you liked spreadsheets this much, did you?”

“No, and I could have gone on happily not knowing. Does this help us to figure out who did this?”

“The code they used might. I’m going to see if I can find a signature. Hackers, like artists, sign their work. So, the thief was watching our security crew. What happened next?”

“Something was slipped into Smitty’s breakfast burrito, sending him on regular and extended trips to the bathroom. We’ve confirmed with the place that does his normal delivery, and they didn’t send an order here today.”

“He order online?” Winn asks.

“Yeah. This must have been done by a crew, someone who knew computers and someone who knows art, maybe even a security expert.”

“Hey, I know computers and art.”

“Oh, you’re an art expert now, are you?”

“I know what I like. What are the odds the museum is willing to sell that gnome. He was adorable.”

“Don’t let Alex hear you say that. She’s in a really bad mood. She nearly bit my head off when I got here just because I laughed.”

“Yeah, Alex needs to get laid already. I mean, your sibling’s not my type, but Sam could take one for the team, right?”

Kara snorted. “And what’s your type?”

“Women who don’t scare the crap out of me.”

“There are women that don’t scare the crap out of you?”

“Three!” Winn spins his chair, holding up three fingers to Kara. “There have been four if you count my kindergarten teacher.”

“We don’t. We also don’t count your mom.”

“Oh.” Winn turns back to his laptop and continues to type. “I guess there are two then. So, we’ve got one guard down and out with the trots. How did the thief get rid of Jason here?”

Kara flashes Jason a look of sympathy. “Something came across the radio that was incredibly distracting.”

“Radio?” Winn types for a few more moments before looking back at Kara who points at the item in question. “Ah, an internet radio. Yeah, we’re dealing with a real tech-head here. Luckily, I’m your Huckleberry.”

“You’re Alex’s Huckleberry. I’m just here to provide my security expertise.”

Winn pauses in his typing, studying the screen. “Kara, did we have an earthquake this morning?”

“Maybe a small one. Why?”

“The system says the earthquake detectors were tripped at 9:17 this morning.”

“What do those do?” Kara directs her question to Jason.

“We have motion detectors on all of the art, but they go off a few times a year because of earthquake activity. The detectors register an earthquake and keep the alarms from sounding for a minute. Unless we have a really big earthquake, that’s plenty of time for things to stabilize, and we haven’t had a big one in the San Diego area in over a hundred years.”

“But these detectors still go off how often?”

Jason shrugged. “A few times a year. Before we got them installed, we used to shut down the museum every time there was a quake.”

“Are you telling me that part of your security system shuts down another part of your security system?”

“Only in the case of an earthquake, and it’s not like someone could know exactly when one of those was going to happen… right?”

“Caltech records and posts all earthquakes to a site. Hold on.” Kara says instead of answering the question, and she pulls out her phone and does a quick search. So far this thief has watched the security team for half a year, taken out both guards at once, overwritten the security feeds to hide their presence, and walked away with a priceless artifact on a sunny morning. Manipulating the seismic plates of the earth would just be one more impossible thing before breakfast. “Okay, we have twenty-seven earthquakes in California so far today, and none of them are in San Diego. I don’t know what set off those detectors, but it wasn’t natural.”

“That helps though,” Winn says. “Now we know what time the theft took place. I’m going to check external cameras in the area. We’re looking for anyone in the area around that time, anyone with a box or a bag that could fit the statue. Then we can cross-reference to people in the museum at that time and run facial recognition.”

“So you think you can find who did this?” Jason asks.

“If the person showed up on camera, I’ll find them.”

“Great. Winn, let me know if you get us a suspect or any leads on the hacking. I’m going to check in with Sam and Alex and see if they’re making any progress. You need anything while I’m gone?”

“Nah.” Winn pulls a reusable water bottle from one of his bags. “I brought snacks with me which is a good thing. I could be here a while.”

Kara heads upstairs and finds Alex scrolling through their phone, but Sam is nowhere to be seen. Alex briefs Kara on the other theft that Sam believes can be attributed to their thief, and Kara updates Alex on the earthquake detectors being triggered somehow. As their conversation ends, Sam reappears.

“Okay, so I just called a friend who works in restorations in Russia, and he says they had an incident a few years back that could be our same thief. A 189.62-carat diamond, the Orlov, was stolen from the Diamond Fund of the Moscow Kremlin. It had been in the head of a scepter. It was replaced with a plastic Disney Princess scepter.”

With a grunt, Alex punches their hand. “That’s gotta be our guy. Any leads?”

“Nothing, but I’m trying to get my friend to send the museum files and videos from the robbery. You think Winn could run some sort of facial computer thingy and see if anyone from that video matches the people here today?”

“Definitely. Send them directly to him,” Alex says. “Oh, also, we have a time for the theft.”

“9:17 AM,” Kara says.

“Well, that’s exact. How do we know that?”

“Earthquake detectors.”

“There was an earthquake?”

“Nope, but there are detectors for earthquakes as part of the security system, and if the detectors are tripped, the movement sensors are all shut off for sixty seconds to keep the alarms from sounding.”

“So our thief distracted both guards, disabled the security cameras… somehow, and faked an earthquake, then stole and replaced the statue within a minute timeframe?” Sam lets out a long, slow whistle. “I won’t lie. I’m impressed.”

“You and Winn both. He was being all fanboy over some computer code.”

“Do we need to remind him this is a thief and not some social justice hacker/superhero?” Alex asks.

Kara holds up her hands and takes a step back. “I’m staying out of it. You’re the one who hired a hacker as your IT expert. What you sow you reap, Alex.”

“What you sow you reap, Alex,” Alex apes back. “I did your friend a favor when I gave him a job. He never would have gotten parole without it.”

“He shouldn’t have been in jail. The people he exposed were the real criminals,” Kara counters.

Sam sighs. “Before you two get going again, can we try and focus on the criminal who Alex doesn’t employ?”

Alex shoots Sam a dirty look that quickly softens. “You’re right. Okay, so what are our next steps? Are we just waiting on Winn?”

“Sam, you said there was another theft with the same MO a couple of years ago?”

“There was another one more recently too. I’m trying to get more information on that.” Sam narrows her eyes as she observes Kara. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that if we’ve got earlier thefts, we might be able to find the thief when they sold the art. You know who we should talk to?”

“I don’t want to,” Alex replies quickly, a heavy frown on their face.

“Oh, come on. If anyone has information on fenced goods, it will be Nia.”

“She creeps me out. I swear she’s psychic.”

“She’s not psychic,” Kara says.

“She’s something. One day, while I was talking to her assistant on the phone, Nia just showed up at my office with coffee and croissants saying she’d heard I was looking for her. I had called like two minutes earlier.” Alex holds up two fingers on one hand to emphasize their point.

“There’s no such thing as a psychic,” Sam says.

Alex nods vigorously. “You haven’t met her. She just randomly tells you weird crap in the

middle of talking about art, and a week later, you find out it’s all true.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

Alex turns to their sister. “Kara?”

“Well…” She shrugs and grins. “I think she’s fun. Plus, she probably knows half of the art fences in this country and a bunch from other countries. She has the contacts we need.”

“She’s a criminal,” Alex grumbles.

“A well-connected criminal. You want to get the statue back, right?”

“... right,” Alex admits begrudgingly.

“Hey, if we catch this guy, we might be able to recover some of the pieces from his earlier thefts. I bet there’s good money in that.”

Alex seems to perk up at that suggestion. “That’s true. Okay, but you need to talk to her. She likes you.”

“She likes you too.”

Alex scrunches up their face in response.

“Well, I want to meet her,” Sam says. “I’ll go with you, Kara.”

“Hey, my job is just to figure out how the security was breached. I don’t do recovery. This is all on Alex.”

Alex seems to waver, their gaze going back and forth between the two women before it finally settles on Kara. “Go with me?”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Sam asks.

“No, Sam, you’re amazing, wonderful, perfect.” The room goes silent as Alex and Sam stare at each other and Kara watches, smiling. This isn’t the first time Alex has tiptoed up to that line, and as usual, they step away again and break off eye contact. “I value you as an employee, but Nia knows Kara. For some reason, Nia likes Kara.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

“You know what I mean, Kara. Nia just liked you the moment she met you. Sometimes, I think you two are in some sort of secret club.”

“It’s because I don’t treat her like she has cooties. Maybe you should try that with the women you know.” Kara tilts her head slightly toward Sam as she raises her brows.

“Whatever,” Alex replies. “I’m going to see Nia. I’d appreciate your help.”

“Well,” Kara pauses, tapping on her lower lip with one finger, “I’ll go if you let me interact with the art.”

“Kar-a.”

“Are you whining?” Sam asks. “I’ve never heard you make that sound before.”

“You should see Alex when I beat them at arm wrestling. Alex pouts.”

“That’s different. You’re unnaturally strong. Here.” Alex pulls off their jacket, flexing a bicep. “I work out, and she still flattens me each time.”

Sam reaches out, first squeezing Alex’s arm and then gently caressing the firm muscle under the shirt. “Nice definition, Alex.”

With a blush, Alex pulls their arm back and puts their jacket on again. It might not be the right move considering how hot it’s suddenly gotten in the room. Air, air would help, so without another word, Alex leaves to get some.

Kara and Sam watch as Alex walks out of view. When Kara reaches out and touches her arm, Sam startles, but she returns Kara’s kindly smile.

“They really do like you, you know,” Kara says.

“They have a funny way of showing it, sometimes.”

“It’s not you. You get that, right? The last time Alex dated someone at work, it ended poorly, and they promised themself they’d never date a coworker again.”

“So if I quit, I might get a date?”

Kara gave Sam’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Don’t quit. If you give Alex time, I’m sure they’ll come around.”

“I’ll try, but I’m only human.”

“Aren’t we all,” Kara replies. “Aren’t we all.”

<><>

Dreamer Artworks is a trendy little art gallery just outside of National City. It’s the kind of place you’d expect to find an array of soup can paintings garnering critical success. In the center of one room, a balloon animal dog statue stands ten feet at its ear tips. On another wall, a painting of a six-foot tall cracked iPhone hangs as a commentary on capitalism in our society. Another painting is completely white, not a hit of color to detract from the starkness, and the sign under it says ‘privilege’.

“I don’t know if it’s art, but I like the social commentary,” Sam says as she stares at the all-white painting.

“Just don’t tell Winn about it, or he’ll bike over to have a look,” Alex says.

“Mx. Danvers?”

Alex and Sam turn to find a woman in her early thirties, with long white hair and a ring on every finger and her thumbs, watching them with an expectant look.

“Mysa.” Alex extends their hand to the newcomer while smiling. “Sorry to drop by unannounced, but—”

“The theft at the Asian Art Museum,” Mysa says while shaking Alex’s hand. “Yes, my sister mentioned you’d be stopping by. Please, follow me.”

“Did we call ahead?” Sam asks Alex.

In response, Alex mouths, ‘Psychic,’ which earns them an eye roll from Sam.

Taking a few quick steps to catch up to Mysa, Alex says, “We need to grab my sister from—”

“The interactive exhibits, I know,” Mysa says.

Sam laughs. “Are you psychic too?”

With a little grin over her shoulder, Mysa replies, “Nah, I just know Kara. When she’s not eating, she’s running around. She reminds me of my labrador… in the nicest ways, of course.”

“Of course,” Alex replies. “Kara would take that as a compliment.”

In a back corner of the gallery sits the interactive exhibits. A two-story-high, spiral slide with sensors that look like piano keys rests in one corner. A crawl-through playground of fluorescent yarn lines one wall. A fifteen by fifteen-foot section of the ceiling, right across the middle, is covered with hanging coppery metal bats, wings wrapped around themselves as if asleep, and the floor below is lit-up panels. Off to the side, a giant metal hamster wheel, one of two that are attached together, spins quickly. One wheel contains a metal rat sculpture, the rat on rails that allow it to stay near the bottom of the sculpture while the wheel spins along with the manned one. Her hands wheeling as she laughs and runs, and not holding the safety hand railings that also spin to stay in front of the runner, Kara Danvers laughs with the joy of a child as she runs in the manned wheel.

“She’s just a big kid, isn’t she?” Sam says.

“It took time but thankfully, yes,” Alex replies with a winsome smile. “Kara, get your butt over here!”

Kara waves briefly before jumping out of the wheel and landing on the floor in a run. She runs several feet, stumbling a bit, but manages to keep her footing while Sam and Alex flinch.

“Has she always been so… fearless?” Sam asks.

“No, it was a work in progress.”

Kara jogs toward them, still smiling from ear to ear. As she passes under the bats, the corresponding pads on the floor light up, and the grouping of bats above move and flap their wings, each making a different musical tone. Arms outstretched, Kara makes two circuits of the bats before she finally makes it back to the group. “Do you guys want a turn on the hamster wheel?”

“Not right now, Kara we—”

“Oh, do you want to go down the musical slide?”

“No, Kara, we need to—”

“Oh, oh! There’s a three-story tall roller coaster outside, with a loop-da-loop. It’s all tubes with stairs and you can walk—”

“Kara!” Alex grabs her face with both hands. “Breathe.”

Kara nods at her sibling, taking a cleansing breath and remaining silent.

“Better. Thank you.” Alex ticks their head to the side. “Nia is ready to see us. Apparently, she knew we were coming.”

“Makes sense,” Kara says as they all fall into step, heading toward a door marked ‘office’. “You have a high-profile theft, and she knows everybody who’s anybody in certain circles.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Alex agrees, “or she’s psychic.”

The office is more of a sitting room. A large glass and silver table stands in the middle surrounded by four dark-blue chairs (though there’s room for six). Though the mainstay of the table is a silvery metal, there’s a round glass top resting on a table-sized, dark-blue dreamcatcher. More dreamcatchers, all in silver and shades of blue, hang around the room. Candles illuminate the area. Slivers of light sneak through gaps in a four-panel dividing screen that blocks off anything beyond the sitting room. It’s shades of blue with a black symbol: an eye with four blocky symbols on one side that look a bit like a combination of a partial cross and eye makeup.

“This… is not what I was expecting,” Sam says.

The dividing screen shifts as a hand slides it forward to allow passage, and a woman carrying a tray arrives. She’s young, early twenties, with dark-brown hair and a knowing twinkle in her eyes. She rearranges the screen to block off the glimpse of a kitchen and actual office beyond before making her way to the table and placing down the tray covered in beverages and assorted pastries.

“You’re late,” Nia says.

“Ugh.” Alex runs a hand through their hair while slowly turning 360 degrees. “How can we be late when we didn’t tell you we were coming?” 

“And yet somehow I have a half-dozen doughnuts, some croissants, raspberry danish, warm turnovers — which would have been hot had you been on time — and coffee, made to order, ready for us.” Nia checks her watch, an elegant lady’s piece that looks like it came from the turn of the century, and tsks. “I expected you three almost a half an hour ago. You shouldn’t keep a lady waiting like that.”

“But… I…” Alex struggles for words, but Nia has already swept out of the room. They turn back to Sam. “See?”

“Interesting,” Sam says, patting Alex on the shoulder as she takes a seat and begins to examine the offerings on the tray.

“That one’s mine,” Kara says, taking a cup of coffee that would be milk if it got much paler, and piling doughnuts on one of the small plates.

“Which one is mine?” Sam asks peering into the coffee mugs and ignoring the tea. “They’re both black.”

“Hold on.” Alex picks one up and takes a sip, grimacing as they hand the cup over to Sam. “This one has sugar in it. It’s yours.”

“Now with extra cooties,” Sam replies as she takes the cup.

“Oh, sorry, I… uh…”

“Alex, I’m kidding. Relax.”

“Yeah, Alex.” Her mouth full of doughnut, Kara elbows her sibling. “Sam’s been trying to share cooties with you for a while now.”

Alex’s response is a grimace and a noise that could almost be a growl.

“Well, so much for your psychic.” Sam sniffs at her coffee cup before placing the beverage down. “She forgot my—”

“Cream for Miss Arias,” Nia says as she places a silver creamer down next to Sam. “Sorry, I ran out of room on the tray.” Her eyes narrow as she turns her gaze on Kara. “Really? I waited nearly half an hour for you, and you couldn’t wait one minute for me?”

With an audible swallow, Kara ducks her head. “Sorry.”

Nia shrugs and smiles as she takes her seat. “Don’t worry about it. I like you. Now, why did you three want a meeting with me today?”

Alex places a croissant on their plate. “You’re really gonna make us ask?”

Nia shrugs and takes a sip of her tea. “Some people enjoy the illusion of control.”

“Why don’t you do your Great Carnac impression and pull the information we need out of your hermetically sealed mayonnaise jar?” Alex says.

For the first time since the group has arrived, the look of confidence falters from Nia’s face and is replaced by confusion. “The great who, and why would I have something besides mayonnaise in a mayonnaise jar?”

Alex leans into Sam and stage-whispers, “I think I found the weak point in her knowledge; it’s people who died before she was born.”

Sam giggles.

Kara swallows her food and wipes her mouth, taking a sip of coffee to clear her throat. “Jimmy Carson died in 2005.”

“How do you know that?”

Kara shrugs at her sibling. “I know stuff. Anyway, ignore them, Nia. We’re here about the theft this morning at the Asian Art Museum. It looks like this group of thieves has been working globally for several years.”

Nia stirs a spoonful of sugar into her tea, staring into the swirling liquid. “And how do you know this thief has struck before?”

“Well, Sam says—”

“Wait,” Alex says, cutting Kara off. “You said thief, singular. Is it just one person doing all this?”

“No, no way,” Kara says. “They’d need to be an expert in art, security, IT, plus probably engineering to pull off some of these heists. Can you imagine one person like that?”

A similar dreamy look appears on the siblings’ faces, and then together they ask, “Are they a woman?”

Sam shoots a scathing glance at Alex, but they aren’t looking her way.

Nia just shakes her head and selects a danish from the tray. “You don’t really want me to do your job for you, now do you, Alex?”

“Actually, I think Alex might be okay with it just the one time,” Kara replies. “Plus, really, is it a woman, and is she single?”

Nia seems to consider before clasping her hands together and leaning forward. “I tell you what, I can’t tell you who’s behind these thefts, not even I know that, but I can give you the names of everyone who’s bought any of the stolen pieces.”

“Ever?” Alex asks.

“Ever,” Nia replies, “Everyone ever… though that seems redundant.”

“Awesome.” Kara grins and gently elbows her sibling. “That’s a great lead, right?”

Alex’s expression is less eager, less enthusiastic. “There’s a catch. There’s always a catch.”

“A favor,” Nia says as she leans back and spreads her hands in front of her. “Teensy-tiny favor.”

“Is it illegal?” Alex asks.

“What do you take me for, a crook?”

“Alex,” Kara squeezes her sibling's arm, “don’t say it.”

“We catch thieves. We don’t break the law,” Sam says, garnering her a nod from Alex.

“You three could be a lot more fun, especially you two.” Nia points back and forth between Sam and Alex. “No, it’s not illegal. It’s just a little favor.”

“Go on, then,” Alex says. “What do I need to do?”

“Not you, hun.” Smiling, Nia shifts forward again and points at Kara. “Her.”

“Me, why me?”

Nia shrugs, leaning back in her chair once more as she takes a bite of her danish. “Hey, I don’t make the rules or the future. It’s gotta be you.”

As Alex pulls at her sleeve, Kara tugs away. “What do I need to do?”

“You know Querl Dox?”

“The artist?” Kara shakes her head. “Not personally.”

“But you know who he is. You’re going to arrange for me to meet him.”

“But… But, I don’t know him.”

“That’s not the important part. You’re going to get a chance to meet him, and you’ll invite me to come along.”

“I mean… sure?” Kara takes another bite of doughnut and chews thoughtfully. “If I ever meet him, I’ll do whatever I can to make that happen for you.”

“Now you’ll give us the names of everyone who bought stolen art from the thief?” Alex asks.

“Nope. Not until Kara makes an introduction with Querl.”

“But she doesn’t even know him. How is she going to introduce you to him?”

“The New Colossus.”

Alex sits silently watching Nia, but the woman is a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, and all that follows from her is silence and an annoyingly knowing smile. “And what does that mean?”

“You, Danvers, are always so focused on living in the present when the future is so much more interesting… or the past.” Nia checks her watch, her eyes widening slightly. “Unfortunately, that’s all the time I have today. I have an unexpected guest coming in fifteen minutes, and I have to frost the cake I baked. Lemon is his favorite.”

“But we still have questions,” Alex says.

Standing and pushing the back of her hands toward the others in a shooing motion, Nia says, “Then you shouldn’t have been late. Now get going. You still have to follow up on that lead that Winn gave you.”

As she stands, Sam’s brows furrow. “But Winn hasn’t given us a lead.”

In response, Nia looks up from putting things back on the tray and grins knowingly at Sam.

Obviously dismissed, the trio heads to the door, and Sam whispers to Alex. “What just happened? I feel more confused than when we showed up.”

“That’s why I wanted people with me,” Alex whispers back. “I needed backup and witnesses.”

“Oh, Miss Arias?” The group stops at the doorway and turns back toward Nia who says, “Call her.”

“Call her?” Sam looks over at Alex who just shrugs, so she asks, “Call who?”

“Your mother. Call her.”

Sam’s eyes widen and her mouth gapes. “But how… How did you…?”

“You don’t have to forgive her, but call her. Someone has to take the first step.” With that said, Nia disappears behind the dividing screen again, like the wizard behind the curtain.

“What was that about?” Alex asks Sam as they step back into the main gallery again.

“Nothing,” Sam replies, but her face is drawn and shadowed in emotions.

“Hey, Sam—”

As Alex reaches out, Sam steps away, moving more quickly.

“Hey!” Alex takes several quick steps to catch up to the leggy brunette. “Don’t run off when I’m trying to help. We’re friends.”

“No, you’re my employer. That’s been made clear often enough. Don’t try to redefine the relationship when the situation suits you.”

As Sams strides away with several long steps, Alex turns back to their sister. “What just happened with her?”

“Who, Sam or Nia?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t ask me. I don’t understand women. That’s why I’m happily single.”

“You’re happily single until the next cute brunette smiles at you.”

“I’m simple,” Kara replies, smiling brightly. “Simple works for some women.”

Alex sighs, and the two fall into step moving through the gallery again. “Did we learn anything?”

“From Nia? That there might be only one thief and that thief might be female.”

“Great, so with like 7.5 billion people in the world, and over half of them female, we’ve got a lot of suspects to comb through.”

“Actually, there are now 66 million more males than females in the world. Also, assuming a certain age-range for this thief, we’re looking at closer to 1.5 billion suspects.”

“How do you know that?”

Kara shrugs. “I like to read, and I have a good memory.”

“Really? I seem to remember you never put your dishes in the sink.”

“A good **selective** memory,” Kara says, one finger raised as she continues to smile.

“Well, selective genius, that still gives us far too many suspects. This person could be from anywhere in the world. I have no idea where we should go from here.”

“Maybe we should ask Winn.”

“Look, just because Nia—” Alex's phone rings, and they pull it out of their pocket, frowning down at it.

“Who is it?”

“Winn.”

“Well, answer it.”

Alex’s frown increases. “I don’t wanna.”

“Give me that you big baby.” Kara snatches the phone from her sibling. “What’s up, Winn?”

_“Alex?”_

“Nope, this is the better Danvers.”

_“Oh, hey, Kara. Sorry, I thought I called Alex. I’ll just—”_

“You did. Alex was unable to answer the phone because… They just couldn’t. What’s up?”

_“I think I have a lead for you guys.”_

“A lead? Really?”

“Give me that.” Alex snatches the phone back. “What did you find out?”

_“I traced the signal that activated the altered security file.”_

“Oh, great. Did you find its origin point?”

_“Nah, it bounces all around the world, dozens of locations. I don’t think I’ll ever find the starting point.”_

“Winn,” Alex growls, “do we need to go over the difference between a lead and a dead-end again? Not all information you find interesting is helpful in a case.”

_“I know. I know. The really interesting part is that one of the points that came up is local.”_

“Local like the United States or local like California.”

_“Local like National City.”_

“Oh, that is local. Hold on.”

Signaling their sister to follow, Alex makes their way over to Sam and gently taps her shoulder. “Hey, I—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam says as she spins on Alex.

Alex holds their hands at shoulder height. “Understood. I have Winn on the line, and he has a lead for us.”

“Oh.” Sam’s seems to tamp her temper down, nodding as she unfolds her arms and offers Alex a gentle smile. “Maybe she is psychic.”

“Told you. Let’s all go to my car where I can put this on speaker.” The trio heads out the door to Alex’s SUV which picks up the call on the car speakers soon after it’s started. “Winn, you’re on speaker with Kara and Sam.”

_“Ladies. How was the trip to see Nia?”_

“The usual,” Kara replies.

“She told us you’d have a lead for us,” Sam says.

_“And I do. The signal that sent the altered security tape bounced around the planet a bit, but one of it’s stopping points was in National City.”_

“It could be a coincidence,” Kara says.

“I don’t believe in coincidences. This is relevant,” Alex says. “Where is it, Winn?”

_“An art gallery.”_

Alex shifts in their seat and glances at first Kara and then Sam. “So either our thief or maybe the next target.”

_“More likely a target. Whoever is doing this is an IT genius. We’re not going to find anything they don’t want us to find. This is one hell of a team.”_

Hands on Alex’s seatback, Kara pulls herself slightly forward. “Nia said it was one person.”

“Nia implied it was one person. She’s a fence and really odd. We can’t trust her,” Alex says.

_“Well, if it is one person, hire them when you catch them, Alex. We don’t want them working for the competition.”_

“Just give us the name of the museum.”

_“Luthor Fine Arts. Do you know it?”_

“I know of it. Kara?”

“I’ve never been there. They do their own security.”

Alex pulls their seatbelt into place. “Let’s get over there and see if we can’t convince them that might not be the best idea. It looks like they’re going to be the victim of a crime.”


	4. The New Colossus

Jessica Chang is an exacting woman. Each morning, even on her sparse vacation days, she awakens at the same time, does the same workout regimen, eats the same breakfast, and then reads a single chapter of a book. It’s never two chapters, no matter how enticing a cliffhanger might be, just the one. A car picks her up and takes her to her job as Director of Luthor Fine Arts. She’s been in charge of the museum since she graduated college with a degree in Fine Arts. It’s an unusual position for someone so young and inexperienced, but sometimes it isn’t what you know but who you know… especially if you also know a lot.

“Miss Chang?”

Kara and Alex stand at the threshold of her office, and Jess’ gaze quickly takes their measure. They’re dressed professionally but not expensively. The suits are neither this year’s nor custom made, but they’ve been tailored to fit, and the shoes are unscuffed. They’re obviously not patrons, and the look she gives them says that fact drops them down several notches in her regard, but still, she replies professionally. “Yes. Do we have an appointment?” She clicks on something on her computer screen, frowning heavily. “I don’t have anything on my calendar for this afternoon.”

“Sorry, no. I apologize for dropping in like this, but a matter has just come to our attention which could be of the utmost importance to you,” Alex says. “Do you have five minutes for us?”

Glancing at her screen again, Jessica nods. “Five minutes.” She gestures to the chairs on the other side of her desk. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“Thank you for agreeing to see us. I’m Alex Danvers of DEO,” Alex holds out a business card as they speak, “and this is my sister Kara.”

“From El Mayarah Security,” Kara adds with a nod.

“Danvers Extraordinary Objects,” Jess says as she examines the card in her hand, then fixes an icy glare on Alex. “You’re the art gallery turned recovery experts. Why are you here? We haven’t had any thefts.”

“Not yet.” For her words, Kara also earns one of those icy glares. If she keeps serving those up, they won’t need any A/C. “Miss Chang, we have reason to believe that your gallery may be the target of an upcoming theft. Do you have any new exhibits being installed?”

“Not at this time.” Jessica is known for her keen insight and sharp mind, a reputation she’s earned. She leans back in her chair, saying nothing, just further sizing the siblings up. Her brown eyes hold a steady intensity, and in about five second’s time, she seems to have taken their full measure… and found them wanting. “Why exactly do you believe my gallery is a target?”

Alex and Kara begin to speak at the same time, both immediately stopping, and Alex nods at their sister to continue.

“Thanks. Miss Chang, a program was recently used to cover a museum’s security feed with older, altered footage from the same museum in the facilitation of a theft.”

“The Seated Buddha from the Asian Art Museum.”

“How did you know that?” Alex asks, the question probably coming out sharper than they’d meant, but Alex has always been the hammer to Kara’s scalpel.

“Please, every high-end gallery knows by now,” Jess replies with a casual wave of her hand. “You still haven’t explained what this has to do with me.”

“Because we traced the signal that was used to initiate the program,” Kara explains. “It was hidden and jumped through several locations, but there was only one locally, and that’s this gallery.”

“This gallery?” Slowly, Jess pushes herself to her feet. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Not at all,” Kara says, and she means it. Kara has made her living protecting people like Miss Chang from those who would take advantage of her. Where Alex sees possible criminals, Kara sees possible victims, and it shows in their approach. “We’ve located several other robberies, over the past few years, with this same signature. We’ve yet to dig through any of the evidence, but from this latest one, we do know the thief or thieves are meticulous and take their time. We think it’s more likely you’ve been hacked and could be the next target.”

“That’s… That’s not possible. Our IT—”

“Yeah, that’s what the last gallery said,” Alex says.

“No, really, our IT is…”

The pause that follows is uncomfortably long, forcing Kara to ask, “What about your IT?”

Jessica shakes her head, a dismissive gesture coupled with the first hint of a smile she’s had since the siblings have arrived at her office. “I suppose any system can be breached. I’ll alert my security. Thank you for your concern. Is there anything else?”

“I’d like to have my IT guy take a look at your system. He can be here in ten minutes.”

“More like fifteen,” Kara whispers. “You know, the bike.”

Alex grumbles. “Fine, more like fifteen minutes, but he’s the best in the business. Kara here is a security specialist, as you know. If you let her poke around, she can find any holes in your security and recommend ways to mitigate the threats.”

“Thank you for your kind offers,” Jess says as she walks past the siblings to open her office door, “but we’ll do our own internal security check.”

Alex noticeably bristles and stands. Hands on their hips, they take several steps to stop just within Jess’ personal space. They tower over the shorter woman as Jess stands at just over five feet tall. It’s usually an advantage. “Didn’t you hear anything we said? You might be a target of a highly skilled and technically advanced group of thieves. We’re offering you the use of our IT guy and a security check from El Mayarah for free. Most galleries would jump at this offer.”

Jess tilts her head back to meet Alex’s gaze head-on, or as best she can from her angle given their height difference. If Alex is trying to be intimidating, it looks like they missed the mark. “We’re not most galleries. Thank you for your time and making us aware of this, but we’ll take it from here. Have a good day Miss Danvers and Miss Danvers.”

Kara accepts the dismissal without another word and walks by, gently grabbing her sibling’s arm to urge Alex along. Unsurprisingly, the encouragement is met with firm resistance. Alex was born ten days late and had to be induced. When they don’t want to do something, it practically takes an act of congress to force their hand.

Alex shakes off their sister’s hand and stares long and hard at Jess before finally saying, “It’s Mx. Danvers.”

Jess nods. “Mx. Danvers, have a lovely day.”

As the door closes behind them, the duo stands in the hallway outside the office, Alex’s hands in fists as they stare at the closed door. “What the hell?”

“Shhhh.” Kara urges her sibling along, away from the office and back onto the gallery floor. Only a small group of people mill about on this weekday, and they easily find a quiet corner in which to speak. “Take it easy.”

“You take it easy. That woman’s hiding something.”

“We don’t know that.”

“We don’t know anything because she’s being a goddamn beaver dam.”

Kara is fairly well-versed in her sibling’s dramatics, but sometimes, they even take Kara off-guard. “What do you mean, beaver dam?”

“You know, taco blocko, scissor interceptor. You know.”

“I… Alex, this is not a club, and she did not get between you and some woman. Damn, you really need to get laid.”

Alex opens and closes their mouth several times, but Kara is right. Alex hasn’t had a date in so long that her flower expenditures have been replaced with batteries. “Yeah, you’re right, but I’m still right about that woman. She totally shut us down, and where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

“Where is there smoke?”

“Here. There is smoke here, and I mean to find out what’s burning.” Alex fumbles at their pocket, pulling out their phone which is vibrating insistently. “It’s Sam.”

“A lead?”

Alex shrugs and answers, speaking in hushed tones. “Sam, hold on a sec. Let me get someplace more private.” They hold up a finger to their sister. “I’ll be right back.”

“You sure you don’t want me to…” She shrugs as Alex slips away through the crowd toward an exit. “Right, I’ll just wait here and take in the sights.”

As Alex disappears from view, Kara takes a quick stroll around the gallery. Her attention is more on the security she can see than on the actual artwork. She counts off guards, security cameras, and any other visible protective devices. Partway through her journey, she’s drawn over to one piece of art. Arms crossed, she tilts her head to the side as she examines the piece.

It’s a sculpture of the Statue of Liberty, kneeling. Her torch lays near her feet, and in her hand is a trowel. Her other hand holds a brick that she’s adding to a wall that’s already nearly as high as her knee. At her feet is a plaque lying scattered and bent on the ground, obviously discarded, and engraved with a famous poem:

“ _Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she_

_With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,_

_Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,_

_The wretched refuse of your teeming shore._

_Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,_

_I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"_

“The New Colossus.”

The voice coming from so close startles Kara, but it’s not just that someone’s speaking, it’s what’s been said. Kara’s mind races to the seemingly ambiguous phrase dropped by Nia, and although she’s still just as clueless, she sees this thread and gives chase. “What did you say?”

“The New Colossus. It’s a poem by Emma Lazarus circa 1883. Too bad she didn’t live long enough to see it added to the statue.”

Kara examines the woman, well, the little that’s on display. She’s a few inches shorter than Kara and wearing an oversized hoodie with the hood pulled up. Her aviators reflect the statue, mini lady liberties in each lens. Though little more than a nose and lips are visible, one is straight, elegant almost, with just the tiniest bump and the others are full and promising. Her skin is pale, a stark contrast to the wisps of black hair that have escaped whatever holds them back and frame her face. It’s just a hint of the person that lies beneath, but that makes it all the more mesmerizing.

“The New Colossus,” Kara whispers almost reverently while staring at the woman. “I’m, uh, I’m Kara Danvers.”

The woman turns, her face glancing down at Kara's extended hand before she seems to give Kara a once over, her gaze a bit more than friendly even through the sunglasses. When she looks up, a grin is tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Nice… suit.”

Kara laughs awkwardly as a blush rises. “Thanks, nice… hoodie?” When the woman clasps Kara’s hand, fingers long, artistic, and a bit cool, Kara has to control a shudder. Even in that brief moment of contact, there’s something there, a certain electricity that flows between them.

The woman’s smile grows, and she withdraws her hand, not looking as affected as Kara most definitely feels. “They’re all the rave in the Paris fashion world this spring. People are wearing them from board room to bedroom.” Her eyebrows shoot up on that final word, appearing briefly over the tops of the glasses, a silent punctuation point added to an implication.

“Heh, I can’t imagine you wearing that in the board room or the bedroom. I think you’d have to get rid of it.” Immediately Kara begins to sputter. Alex has always said one of Kara’s greatest gifts is being able to fit one of her big feet completely in her mouth, and for some reason, Kara continues to prove her sibling right. “No, wait. That’s not what I meant. I meant something else not… not… naked.”

“Kara!”

Kara spins at her name to see her sibling waving her closer. It’s poor timing, all things considered, but business before pleasure.

“Oh, I…” She nods over at Alex before glancing back at the other woman. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” With a final, regretful glance at the woman who watches her with what Kara is sure is amusement, she jogs quickly over to Alex. “What?”

“Hello to you too. Sam got a call from some curator friend of hers. She says she has news. Come on.”

“I can’t. I mean, give me a minute. I’m talking to someone.”

“Who?”

“I’m talking to… Where did she go?”

“Where did who go? Kara!”

But Kara is already on her way back to the statue. She circles around it 360 degrees, scratching her head as she spins slowly and looks around the gallery. Unfortunately, the woman in the hoodie is nowhere to be seen. The only thing Kara has to show for the meeting is the distinct memory of that profile, a smile she’d walk a hundred miles to see again, and a tingling in her hand she knows she isn’t imagining. “No.”

“Kara, come on!”

With a sigh, Kara makes her way back to Alex. Her usual civility is tamped down as she kicks at the air in front of her foot when she gets there. “She was right there, Alex. She was right there, and then you scared her away.”

“Who was there?”

“I don’t know. We only exchanged a few pleasantries before I stuck my foot in my mouth, and then you called me away. How can I show her I’m not a babbling idiot if she’s gone?”

“Kara, I love you, but you are a babbling idiot. You’re also incredibly bright and the best person I know, but don’t lie to yourself. Come on, since your latest crush seems to have fled the scene, let’s go see what Sam has to tell us.”

“Yeah, but… Fine. I hope this is a good lead.”

“Me too. I really want to get this guy.”

“Yeah, I,” Kara’s gaze wanders back to the statue now missing its observers, “I know what you mean.”

<><>

A report from security alerts Jessica of the departure of the Danvers siblings. She immediately heads down to security, spending about twenty minutes, give or take, there and looks no less terse when she returns. She unlocks the door, steps inside the office, and closes and locks the door behind herself, taking a deep breath to steady herself once she’s locked away from prying eyes again.

“They’re not coming back, are they?”

Jess gasps and spins at the voice of the brunette lounging on her chair. She’s dressed the same as earlier, but her hood is pulled back, and her sunglasses are hanging off the front of her hoodie. Her long black hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, just a few errant wisps framing her frace where they’ve pulled free. Her eyes are a bright green and hold a wisdom far beyond her twenty-something years. Even with minimal makeup, she’s stunning with high cheekbones, plump lips, and a jawline artists would line up to recreate.

“God damn it, Lena, you nearly scared the life out of me. What are you doing here?”

Lena rises, making her way over to a shelf of artwork by the couch. She gingerly touches several pieces as if seeing them for the first time, as if she hadn’t approved their purchase years ago and seen them dozens of times since. “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop in.”

Jess’ response is a derisive snort which garners a single eyebrow raise from Lena. At the bar, Jess stops with her hand on the whiskey, perhaps considering between drinking this early and handling this conversation without alcohol, but ultimately pours herself a glass of water. She holds it out to Lena, who responds with a head shake, as she passes the couch and then takes a sip. “Well, I know that’s bullshit. You never pay the business any mind lately. So, once again, Lena, why are you here?”

“Because I missed my friend?”

Jess sits behind her desk, hands folded and gaze heavy on the other woman. A silence stretches between them as tension rides the room, but neither breaks away. “I don’t believe you, of course, but I like the answer. A for effort.”

“Thank you.” Lena smiles and moves to the empty seat on the other side of the desk. She sits in a prim and proper way that seems out of place with her overly casual clothing, but she is a Luthor. Her adopted mother beat, not physically, proper etiquette into her throughout her childhood. You can take the heiress out of the mansion, but… you know the rest. “So, what did they want?”

“They?”

“The Danvers. You know who I mean. Is there a problem about which I should be aware?”

“No, I think they’re trying to drum up some business with their scare tactics. They were trying to convince me that we were being targeted by a thief. They wanted access to our security.”

“Which you refused, of course.”

“Of course.”

Lena finally breaks into an authentic smile. It’s true that she doesn’t pay the gallery much mind, but there’s a reason for that. She doesn’t need to. There’s no reason to micro-manage when you already have the best manager. “That’s why I hired you.”

“You hired me because I’m the only person you trust. So, for the last time, Lena, why are you here?”

“I need my tickets.”

It’s not that the words don’t make any sense, but the words don’t make any sense. Though the owner of the gallery, Lena hasn’t had more than a passing interest in the business in several years. She shows up for the annual meeting with her mother and the occasional PR photoshoot, but Lena is more of a hands-off employer… way off. She approves expenses and new exhibits electronically, and Jess has often wondered if it’s a rubber stamp process or if the young owner actually reads what she’s signing. So, Lena asking for tickets of some kind is vague with a side of confusing.

“Yeah, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re tickets to…?”

“To Querl Dox’s upcoming gallery showing.”

“Oh.” Jess pulls an envelope out of her desk drawer, thumbing through it to withdraw two tickets. “Why do you need these?”

“Because these fancy places have silly rules about only allowing invited guests in to see their priceless works of art.” Lena extends her hand, fingers encouraging the release of said tickets. “Come on, already.”

“Here. I’m just surprised you want to go. You never go to these shows. Aren’t you the one who said these were just the trappings of the bourgeoisie or something?”

Lena snags the tickets from Jess’s fingers, stuffing them into the pocket of her hoodie. “Now quoting me to me, that’s rude. Anyway, Mr. Dox has talent. We might want to show one of his pieces.”

“We might?”

“We might. Jess, if the Danvers come back around here—”

“I’ll send you a message, and you can ignore me as usual.”

“Rude. Not responding to your messages is not the same as ignoring them. I always read them… Eventually.”

“And you say _I’m_ rude.” Jess rises and steps around the desk, her gaze heavy and holding Lena tightly even before she grips Lena by the upper arms when Lena also rises. “How long will you be in town? Any chance we can do dinner?”

“I’d love that. I’m staying at my townhouse in the city. Tonight at seven?”

“Don’t stand me up.” Unfortunately, that’s not an idle request. Lena is brilliant, but the drive that got Lena early admission to MIT seems to have evaporated. It has been degrading for some time, but at this point, and wherever Lena’s head is nowadays, it isn’t with the business. Saying none of this, Jess gives Lena a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I will hunt you down, Lena Luthor. I know people.”

“Oh, I know you do.” Lena chuckles and makes her way to the doorway. “Send a car.”

“I’ll send a bounty hunter if I have to.”

Lena blows Jess a kiss goodbye, slides her hood up, puts her aviators back into place, and then leaves. It’s a short trip to the parking lot and her metallic blue 2020 Karma Revero GT. The car is a mixture of luxury and efficiency with its Porsche-like interior and exterior design melded with the most efficient hybrid engine on the general market. It’s priced out of the pocketbook of most consumers, but the Luthors aren’t most anything.

Lena makes the drive to Tomorrow’s Human Haus, the gallery that will be hosting Dox’s exhibit, in just a few minutes. It’s a trendy place with a large gallery in the center and several smaller, more intimate rooms off to the side and upstairs. Dox’s exhibit will open this weekend, and there’s much ado around it. The gallery is fairly empty coming up on the end of the workday on a weekday, but there will still be a fairly active crowd here in a few hours for cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, and the art. Lena makes her way around the gallery, the hood and sunglasses in place the whole time. She quickly draws the attention of a security guard and then another. As she admires a marble statue that’s twice her size and much, much heavier, she can’t help but smirk. The security guards have barely moved in the last five minutes because she’s barely moved, and the security camera has gotten a good view of her profile.

“That is you,” a woman says as she waves the security guards away, a look of annoyance on her objectively attractive face. “Lena, what are you doing here?”

“Admiring the art.” Lena tucks her sunglasses into her hoodie front and pulls back her hood. “How have you been, Andrea?”

Andrea is a few years older than Lena with long dark hair and a natural tan that shows her Latina heritage. She’s dressed in expensive business attire, and the scent of irises follows in her wake.

For whatever reason, the simple question seems to catch Andrea off guard. She folds and unfolds her arms, tucking her hair behind one ear as she anxiously shifts her weight from foot to foot. “Okay. Good. I’m good, you?”

“Also good. Are you sure you’re alright? You seem… nervous.”

Andrea Rojas has been the Director of Tomorrow’s Human Haus for five years now. It’s a great job, one she got largely because her girlfriend at the time, the very person who is standing in front of her right now, made a phone call on her behalf. It was the foot in the door Andrea needed, and it changed her life. Perhaps Andrea could have found a better way to say thank you than the way she did.

“I just… I haven’t seen you in six years.”

“Has it been that long?”

“Yes, since…” She shakes her head and glances away. Ghosts from the past can be hauntingly unsettling. “Why are you here?”

“It’s an art gallery, Andrea. You do remember what I do for a living, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Give me the tour?”

Andrea looks like she might refuse, but after just a moment’s hesitation, she steps forward and begins her tour guide routine. She takes Lena through the first floor, across the large display room and the smaller side rooms where lesser-known artists are on display. In the back is a section which is sealed off, what is normally four smaller rooms have had their inner walls taken down, and one large room is now assembled. The name Querl Dox appears proudly on the display outside the room, and several of his works can almost be seen through the frosted glass windows.

The upstairs area is smaller. The central section is open, a straight shot up from the floor to skylights on the roof. Lights twinkle on the windows backlit by the sky. It’s still early, daylight still streaming in, but they’ll twinkle like stars when backlit by the night sky. There is an interior balcony that rims the open section and leads to a series of rooms on the section floor. Andrea shows Lena through several of them, passing by one that is clearly under construction.

“What’s this?” Lena asks.

“Oh, that’s the Andrew Phillips exhibition. It won’t be open until next weekend.”

“Really?” Lena smirks, walking backward toward the closed doors. “Too bad I don’t know anyone who works here, like maybe the director.”

“Lena, I can’t.”

“Can’t or shouldn’t?”

“I definitely shouldn’t,” Andrea says as she joins Lena just outside the door. “It’s not open to the public.”

“Good, then we can have a private showing.”

Lena brushes those same stray hairs behind Andrea’s ear that have once again broken free. Even years later, even with all of their issues, there’s still heat between them. It starts in the eyes, travels down to their smiles, and settles deep in the belly. It’s like embers in a fire pit that come to life from a rush of air, and Lena is breathing life into them right now.

Andrea smiles back at Lena’s crooked grin and slides her security badge across the scanner, unlocking the door. “Don’t get me into trouble.”

“Me? Get you into trouble?” Lena pushes the now unlocked door open with her back, still grinning. “I seem to remember you were pretty damn good at finding trouble on your own. You didn’t need my help.”

“Maybe, but you didn’t mind giving it.”

“I’m a giver.”

Andrea laughs at the familiar antics, the easy jokes. It’s a little trip down memory lane and a reminder that there were some pretty good memories there.

The room itself is in mid-setup. About half of the art is arranged for viewing while half of it sits under sheets along one wall. In the center of the room is a long case with a series of figures on display. There’s a metal plaque on a stand with the words, ‘carved wooden figures from the Congo on loan from the African Museum in Belgium’ clearly marked. Lena wanders through the room while Andrea follows, hands fretting.

“Like I said, it’s not open yet. We should head out. The Cescatti room is open. I know you love her stuff.”

“I do. I do,” Lena says as she pulls out her cell phone and turns to face Andrea, snapping a picture.

“What are you doing?”

Lena circles Andrea, taking picture after picture. “I’m taking pictures of the art, darling. Give me a smile?”

“Lena,” she holds up a hand, smiling shyly behind her outstretched fingers, “don’t.”

Lena stops clicking, phone tilted slightly to the side as she admires Andrea. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Working.”

“Later tonight. I have dinner with Jessica but meet me for drinks afterward. We can catch up on old times. What do you say?”

“Old times,” Andrea repeats. “You’re the last person I ever expected would show up wanting to talk about old times.”

“You mean Veronica.”

“Fuck.” That one word is a sucker punch to the gut, and all of the air seems to rush out of the room. Andrea walks a circle with her hands on her hips, trying to regain her equilibrium. All that’s missing is the ref doing a ten count. “I was wondering when we’d get to Ronnie.”

“We’re not. We don’t have to.” Lena shoves her phone back in her hoodie pocket and steps into Andrea’s unsteady pathway. “Hey, she’s in the past, both of our pasts. You can’t move forward looking behind you. Go out with me tonight for drinks. I won’t bring her up again.”

“I don’t know what this is about but—”

“This is about six years being too long to go without seeing someone over one stupid mistake.”

“I cheated on you.”

“Oh, I know. I remember… vividly, but to be honest, I get it, and I’m over it.”

“You… You get it?”

Lena grins, her smile crooked and dimples on full display. “It wasn’t about love or a lack of it. I gave more attention to my studies than to you. You’d said it more than once. You were lonely, and Veronica Sinclair was an opportunist predator. If our situations had been reversed, she would have tried the same thing with me. It took me a while to admit it to myself, but she may have succeeded.”

Andrea releases a long, shuddering breath. “Are you saying you forgive me?”

“A long time ago, but if you’d like to buy a girl a drink, I wouldn’t refuse.”

Finally, a real smile stretches across Andrea’s face and lights up her eyes. “How does eleven sound?”

“Perfect. That will give me time to get caught up with Jessica and get my ass chewed out about all of the business I’ve been neglecting. You would think she’d be happier about being indispensable.”

“She always was your right hand, even in school.”

Lena nods and allows Andrea to lead her to the door and out of the exhibition. It’s with a lighter air that they head downstairs together, and by the time they reach the front doors of the gallery, they’re both laughing.

“Text me your number.” Lena holds out a business card to Andrea but pulls it back, smiling, when the other woman reaches for it. “Don’t stand me up now. I know where you work.”

Andrea plucks the card from Lena’s hand with a grin. “Well, if I do, you’ll have to come find me again.”

“You can count on it.” Lena opens her arms, and Andrea steps into the embrace. “Mmmm, I thought so. You’re still wearing it.”

Andrea steps back to meet Lena’s gaze but not leave her grip. “What?”

Lena inhales, allowing the scent to fill her senses as she smiles. “Love in White by Creed. I remember when I bought you your first bottle. I remember sleeping in your t-shirts, wrapped in the fabric of your embrace and your scent.”

Even through her tan, a bright blush creeps up the back of Andrea’s neck and up her cheeks.

“Until tonight.” Lena presses a kiss to Andrea’s cheek and returns to incognito mode, hood and glasses in place again, as she steps away.

The trip to her townhouse takes a bit more time as commuters begin to leave work for the day. It wears Lena’s patience thin, and she goes through more than one ‘orange’ light as she zips between cars, smiling and waving at any who honks at her passing. Soon enough, she’s in her private parking spot and then taking the elevator up to the penthouse. Luthors never do anything small, after all.

She grabs a shower, washing away the day, and prepares for the evening. When she’s done and has dried her hair, she pulls out a red dress, something that hugs her curves in all the right places. Andrea always did like her in red. It’s the perfect mix of appropriate for dinner with Jess but suggestive enough to garner attention for her plans afterward. It has capped sleeves, offering a touch of modesty that is totally erased by the plunging neckline. The knee-length skirt would be Lillian approved, and though Lena hates to admit it, so would the way it hugs her curves. She’s been reminded all too often that her physical assets are powerful weapons that should be used to her advantage. It’s probably why she favors aviators and hoodies.

She lays it across the foot of her bed and dials a number in her contacts as she goes through her mail: bills, soliciting for donations, a thank you from three local charities (a woman’s shelter, a home for children, and a pet shelter), and enough junkmail that she feels guilty for her impact on deforestation.

She’s making a pile for recycling when the phone is answered, and a groggy sounding voice says, _“Hello?”_

“Are you drunk already?”

_“... Mom?”_

Lena can’t stop the sharp laugh that breaks free. “No, Jack, it’s Lena, Lena Luthor. How much have you had to drink?”

_“Lena Luthor?”_ Honest and endearing affection spreads from Jack’s voice and runs up Lena’s spine. It’s a level of unconditional love she isn’t greeted with often enough, and it’s a balm. _“Are you calling to tell me you’ve decided to make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”_

“Wow, you are smashed. I bet it was a great party.”

_“It would have been better if you were here.”_

Lena images Jack’s sweet face smiling down at her and can’t help but smile back. He’s a lush and an emotional fool who loves not too wisely but too well, but she has a certain fondness for him she’s never been able to replicate with anyone else. She’s loved and lusted after many a woman in her life, but only with Jack has she ever truly felt safe. Lena is happily gay without regrets, no matter how long and hard she questioned that while growing up, but knowing Jack Spheer exists gives her hope for heterosexual men the world over.

“Then next time, remind me. Listen, Romeo, I need a favor.”

_“For my future wife, anything.”_

Lena doesn’t even try to control her eye roll. “You and Querl Dox are still on good terms, right?”

_“A prince among men.”_

“I’m sure. Any chance you can help me by getting an invitation to his gallery showing on Friday night?”

_“Lena I would walk a mile across broken glass just to see your smile one more time. Whatever you need, consider it done.”_

“Oh, boy. Jack, just get a pen and paper. I want you to write this down so sober you remembers what drunk you promised, okay?” Lena listens to him shuffling around as she holds up one piece of mail, a self-satisfied grin on her face. Friday night is going to be one hell of a show.


	5. Strange Bedfellows

Top of the Market is a five-star restaurant in downtown San Diego that sits just off the pier with breathtaking views of the bay. The fish could only be fresher if you caught it yourself, and the dining experience is unrivaled. They have several smaller, glass-enclosed rooms made for private dining. They’re usually for small groups bigger than two, but on a slow Wednesday night, armed with the power of the Luthor name, Jess has no issue reserving one.

She’s only just been seated and served her glass of wine when the other member of her party arrives. Lena Luthor is many things: brilliant, creative, charming, clever, industrious, but timely does not make that list.

“It’s seven o’clock,” Jess says, the words coming out a bit sharp, like an accusation.

It makes Lena falter on her way up to the table. It’s just a little hiccup in her step, but it’s not the kind of weakness she’d allow most people to see. Her mother, Lillian, would roll over in her grave if a Luthor did that… not that Lillian is dead. Lena is just fairly certain her adoptive mother is some form of undead that sleeps in a grave. Still, Jess isn’t most people. They’ve been together since grad school, through thick and thin. Jess has seen Lena at her worst, at her weakest, and instead of using it as an opportunity to strike has only shown support. Jessica Chang is everything the Luthor family told Lena didn’t exist in this world, and through her, Lena has learned how to be a person her family doesn’t know, but that she likes better.

“Yes?” Lena slides into the chair across from Jess, smoothing down the skirt of her red dress. “We agreed on seven, didn’t we?”

“We did, which is why I expected you to be later if you showed up at all. What are you up to?”

“Nothing.” The Luthor facade slides back into place far too easily. It’s all slick smiles and batting eyelashes, the camouflage over the trap into which many a man or woman has fallen. “I just hate to keep a beautiful woman waiting.”

“Nuh-uh.” Jess raises a finger, shaking it in admonishment. The Luthors are the kind of people that if you give them an inch, they’ll sell you a mile of oceanfront property in the desert. Jess has survived this long among them by being stingy with every millimeter. “Don’t you try flirting with me, you charlatan. I’ve seen you blubbering into a Haagen Daz container over a girl, so drop the act.”

“Not my finest hour.” And Lena does. The smile that’s a little too bright, the eyes that sparkle but don’t reflect the soul, and the lashes that bat away serious subjects are gone. Oh, she’s still beautiful, stunning really, but it’s softer now. The heat is gone to be replaced by a comforting warmth that is differently but equally as attractive. “So, how’s Gus?”

“You stroll into town unannounced, pop into the gallery on the heels of the Danvers, and you want to ask me about my cat? I don’t think so. Tell me what’s up.”

Lena waves a hand, summoning over a waiter. “Not without a drink.”

They do manage a little small talk. Gus, Jess’ chocolate point Siamese, is doing well, as are her parents and siblings. Jess has seen Lena’s mother more recently than Lena has, and Lex is on the east coast running Luthor Corp. He and his wife Lana have three kids now, two boys and a girl. By the time they’ve ordered their main course and are on their second glass of wine, Lena can see that Jess’s patience is coming to an end.

“Okay, enough chit-chat. Tell me you had nothing to do with the theft today.”

“Jessica, you wound me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Am I stealing priceless artifacts and selling them on the black market?” Lena’s eyes reflect her glee as she watches Jess over the rim of her wine glass and takes a sip. “No, but it does sound exciting, doesn’t it? Can you picture me as an international art thief?”

“I’m not honestly sure anymore, Lena.” When that comment is met with an eye roll, Jess adds. “I don’t know where you are half the time. Crates show up from all over the world, so I know where you’ve been, but—”

“Are you saying you don’t track my credit card?”

“Are you saying you don’t use cash on purpose to throw me off the scent? Lena, you travel the world alone, and you’re an attractive, young woman—”

Lena slides her hand across the table and over Jess’, “How attractive?”

Jess yanks her hand away, her jovial mood clearly at its end. “Would you stop fooling around? I worry. Would it kill you to check-in?”

“Alright, alright already. Someone doesn’t like mystery in their life.”

“Not even in my books. So, tell me why you’re in town and solve this mystery for me.”

“Andrea.”

It’s just one word, but it clearly isn’t one Jess was expecting. Andrea is an ugly time in Lena’s life. It’s one thing for someone to cheat on you. It’s another thing to walk in and see it, but that’s how Veronica Sinclair gets her kicks. Once she’d conquered Andrea and decided she’d had enough fun with her, she made sure Lena would be home early that night. Ronnie had only ever had sex with Andrea, but she’d fucked them both over but good.

It takes a few seconds for Jess to recover, to find her words - word - such as it is. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. She’s the curator at Human Haus where Mr. Dox is having his show. I went to see her today.”

“You were right. We did need the drinks first. How… Was it ugly?”

A little smile plays along Lena’s lips. “Honestly? It was nice. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately.” Memories of the distant past mix with those from earlier today into a delicious concoction into which she’s looking forward to indulging. As badly as Lena and Andrea ended, Lena has promised herself their story isn’t over, and Luthors keep their promises.

“Lena, what Andrea did was horrible.”

“Oh, I know, but I threw out a lot of good when I got rid of that bad. I don’t know. It’s been six years. I think I’m ready to move beyond it.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.” Appetizers are brought to the table, scallops wrapped in bacon, and they’ll be just the thing to sop up the no doubt copious amounts of alcohol this discussion will need. “But maybe you’re growing up. I’m happy for you. If you saw her and it gave you some closure, that’s great. Now you can put it behind you and maybe put down some roots.”

“Hmmmm. I’m seeing her for drinks tonight.”

Tonight seems to be a roller coaster ride for Jessica. Just when she gets her feet under her, here comes another curve and then a great… big… crash. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Are you insane? Andrea Rojas is the devil.”

“No, Veronica Sinclair is the devil. Andrea is a… devil worshipper.”

“Oh, much better.”

“Anyway, it wasn’t all Andrea’s fault. I wasn’t exactly an attentive girlfriend. I practically drove her into Ronnie’s arms with the way I—” When the dinner roll bounces off Lena’s forehead, she recoils as if she was slapped. Outrage isn’t too strong a word to use, and the shock is definite. “You threw food at me.”

“You’re just lucky my main course isn’t out, or I would have scrod you. Feel free to make some sly, sexual innuendo out of that if you want.”

Based on Lena’s grin, it’s clear that’s an option.

“There is no way I’m going to sit here and let you take any of the blame for that. When you caught her and Veronica together, do you remember what Andrea said to you? Do you?”

Lena nods. “She asked if I was going to get her fired.”

“She asked if you were going to get her fired,” Jess repeats with passion. “That was her first concern. She didn’t try to explain or say you two could work things out. No. She worried about the job that you basically got her.”

“Her father was sick. She needed the money to—” Lena bats away the next roll that comes hurtling her way. “You only have one left.”

“If you keep making excuses for her, I’ll get another basket.”

“All right, all right already.” Lena holds her hands up in surrender. After all, Jess is right. As much as what Andrea did hurt, it was how Andrea reacted that ended them. Couples can recover from cheating but only if they put the relationship first. “Now I remember why I don’t come home more often. You get mean.”

“Only when you get stupid which is always around a woman. Don’t deny it. I’m not asking you to be smart, just be an idiot about a different woman. Variety is the spice of life.”

“Okay, change of topic then. Tell me about the Danvers.”

“The Danvers?” That is, of course, when the waiter brings out their food. It gives Jess just enough time to digest the question. It seems innocent enough, but few things that come from a Luthor are ever as they seem. When they’re alone again, Jess replies, “I had IT and security look for the breach they said we had.”

“And?”

“And something was bounced off of one of our servers. Do you know anything about it?”

“Would I be asking you if I did?”

It’s not an answer, but digging further might get Jessica answers she doesn’t really want. “Anyway, they’re trying to trace the source, but they’re not hopeful. They are very impressed by the skills of the hacker. Anyone you know?” Lena’s smile is the kind that makes someone wish they hadn’t asked the question. “For God’s sake, Lena, whatever you’re doing, stop it.”

“I’m just having dinner with an old friend. Why would you think otherwise? Now, you spoke to Kara Danvers. What do you think of her?”

“From El Mayarah? The company has a sterling reputation. If you weren’t designing our security, I would have hired them. I don’t know much about her personally, but she was a lot nicer than her sister.”

“Sibling.”

“Right, sorry. Anyway, she’s young, early thirties, parents owned a gallery, but she went into the security side which was a good call since the gallery folded like a bad poker player.”

“That was after her adopted father died. Her mother was the buyer and didn’t have the head for business he did. She has a degree in art and electrical engineering.”

“Seriously?” When Jess picks up a roll, Lena flinches, but she only butters it and places it on her plate instead of further accelerating the great gluten war. “If you know all of this, why are you asking me?”

“I did a little research on her this afternoon. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“Oh. I mean, if you happen to be a giant lesbian who likes muscular women who can toss you over their shoulder and whisk you away to the bedroom for untold pleasures, she seems perfect. You have my blessing. Anything to keep you away from Andrea.”

“Don’t be crass, Jessica.” Lena stabs a bit of her food, ignoring the knowing looks her friend is hurling her way. It’s several minutes of eating in silence before Lena folds. “She does look like she could toss me around like a sack of potatoes, doesn’t she?”

“Is that some sort of Irish, gay kink?”

“It is now. Important question.” Lena becoming fixated on something is par for the course. Generally, it will be something academic, but time and again there’s a girl who sneaks up and captures her attention. It seems like that time has come again. “Did she seem intelligent when you spoke to her? Her grades were excellent, and she graduated top of her class.”

Half of Jess’ roll is gone, but it looks like the remaining half might become airborne. “You know how she did in school?”

“I told you. I did a little research.”

“For most people that means looking at her Instagram photos. Did you break into her school record?” When Lena averts her gaze, it’s answer enough. “I swear to God, you’re the reason I’ll never have children. I’d feel badly for your mother except I’ve met her.”

“Feel badly for me then. I was raised by her.”

“That explains so much. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Can I stop you?”

“No. Just talk to her like a normal person. Message her on social media, or if you need an excuse, ask her to meet you for coffee to discuss her security concerns that she came to the gallery about. When you meet up with her, just…” Jess waves a hand in Lena’s general direction.

“What does that mean?”

“It means just show up looking like you do, like that but a bit more casual. Smiling is your best pickup line. You don’t need to get all extra about it.”

“Me? Extra? I have no idea what you mean.”

It’s with a heavy sigh that Jess breaks off a bit of roll and shoves it into her mouth. “And here we go. Good luck to Miss Danvers. She’s going to need it.”

<><>

Bar Pink in central San Diego sits just a few miles north of the National City border. Its location is excellent, with public transportation nearby, the highway a half-mile away, and Breakfast Republic within shaky walking distance for an early morning repast after a late night out. From the outside, the bar fades into its surroundings, just another storefront among many that line the street. Inside, the atmosphere is entirely different. Shades of gray, black, and that shockingly bright pink, as one would expect given the name, are everywhere. Pictures of pink elephants sitting in drinking glasses while wearing top hats and bow ties line the walls. Furniture follows the pink theme that continues into the bathroom which houses more elephant decor and is a favorite selfie spot with its pink rimmed mirrors.

Tonight, the Styletones are playing on the stage, but the music doesn’t overpower the thrum of conversation. Andrea sips her drink and avoids the gaze of yet another female patron that eyes her and then the empty seat at her table. When a hand touches her shoulder, she tenses so much she momentarily loses contact with the seat. “I’m waiting for someone.” Her voice is shaky, betraying her anxiety, but firm.

“Oh, should I leave you to wait for her then?” Lena smirks as she circles Andrea and stands by the empty chair with a drink in her hand.

“Lena.” Andrea says that word with evident relief, but her mood shifts again to slitted eyed annoyance just as quickly. “You’re late. I’ve been here by myself for over twenty minutes.”

“Sorry,” Lena says as she slips into a chair, but the smile that glides across her lips isn’t overly convincing. There are dozens of other patrons in the bar, mostly women, and many of them are watching her or both of them now. It’s hard to say if they’re disappointed by Lena’s arrival or intrigued. “I’d hardly say you were alone though.”

“That’s the problem. You could have texted. You could have texted me back.”

“Andrea, darling,” she slides her hand over Andrea’s, satisfaction at the shiver she receives in return, “I don’t text and drive. Why so tense? You wanted someplace out of the way. This doesn’t meet with your standards?”

“It’s a little… It reminds me of college.”

“It does. I have lots of good memories of that time, don’t you?”

“Lena.” There's a shyness in the way Andrea says Lena’s name, proof once again that the past is still lurking in the side view mirror where objects may be closer than they appear. She pulls her hand free from under’s Lena’s and pushes hair behind her ear. It’s a nervous habit she has, though only those who really know Andrea recognize it. In the ways that matter for this, Lena knows her very well. “Of course, I do. I have so many good memories, most of them with you.”

“To reminiscing.” When Lena raises her glass, Andrea meets her in the toast. They sip their drinks, and Lena watches with amused eyes over the rim of her glass as Andrea’s gaze continues to dart about. “If anyone you know from work is here, you don’t have to worry about coming out to them. You’ll have something in common.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that.” But Lena can sense the lie. It hangs heavy in the air between them like so many before it, so many Lena only found in hindsight but has since dissected and examined. Fool her once, shame on you. Fool her twice… You don’t get to fool a Luthor twice.

“The art world doesn’t exactly care about same-sex relationships, Andrea.” Lena watches as Andrea refuses to meet her gaze. There’s something going on here, something Lena doesn’t know, and that’s an uncomfortable place to be. It’s almost enough to make her fake a text from Jess and head out… almost. “So, how’s your dad?”

“Good.” Andrea favors Lena with an honest smile, something she’d been stingy with up until now. For all of her faults, Andrea was a devoted child. “I have him in an assisted living facility just outside of the city. I visit him three or four times a week, and he really likes it there. He says the nurses are cute.” Andrea leans in and whispers, “I agree.”

Lena controls her eye roll. The internalized homophobia is getting old fast.

“How’s your mom?”

“The same,” Lena replies, eliciting a look of sympathy. “Apparently, I don’t come home often enough, but when I do, I’m just reminded of all my failings in relation to Lex’s success. It’s surprising that that doesn’t make me want to spend more time with her.”

“You know she loves you right?”

If Lena was to answer honestly, she’d say no. The steady diet of undisguised disappointment and reproach her adoptive mother has fed Lena does not feel like love, and Lena is hard-pressed to remember her mother saying it when company wasn’t present. Her rounds of therapist are in agreement that a lack of maternal love and acceptance have led Lena to seek out acceptance from older and inappropriate women. The Rhea debacle is just one such example. In comparison, Lena’s time with Andrea looks rather benign which isn’t a compliment to Andrea but rather a commentary on some of Lena’s even less wise choices.

“Well, she has a funny way of showing it. She better hope I never have to pick her rest home. I will not be the doting daughter you are.”

“I’m sure Lex will take care of her,” Andrea says, not rising to the bait but instead throwing out some of her own.

“Of course, he will. The golden boy is perfect. He’s probably building a wing on his mansion just for her even as we speak.” Lena waves away what she’s sure will be some pathetic attempt by Andrea to supplicate Lena. “Enough of the pity party. I didn’t come here to talk about my relatives. I came to catch up on your life. Are you seeing anyone?”

“You don’t know? I’m hurt.”

It’s said with good humor, but the non-answer makes Lena freeze.

However, Andrea doesn’t skip a beat, as she continues with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m as single as the last Pringle in the can. You?”

“Also a lone chip.” Lena raises her drink, a cagey smile twisting her lips up. “To a couple of snacks who are nowhere near their expiration date.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

And they do.

One drink leads to two, and two lead to four. Someone suggests shots which sounds like an excellent idea. (It’s not.) Ample amounts of alcohol make them question why they’ve been strangers for so long, and reminiscing turns to a rather sloppy form of romance.

By the time they’re grinding on the dance floor, their bodies unable to get any closer while they’re clothed, it’s not a matter of if they’re leaving together but when. That question is answered when Lena whispers, “You want to get out of here?” and Andrea leans back just enough to nod. The smiling lip bit is thrown in for flair.

‘Your place or mine’ is a matter of proximity, and Andrea’s place is closer, much closer, within half a mile. They could walk it if they were so inclined, but between unsuitable footwear, liberating amounts of alcohol, and a need to be alone as soon as possible, they call an Uber. The driver arrives quickly and doesn’t seem particularly distracted by the horny girls going at it in his backseat, though he does warn them to ‘keep their panties on because he isn’t cleaning that up.’ It’s a fair warning and probably not the first he’s given in this part of the country. Some lessons are hard-earned. His overall demeanor and quick driving earn him a five-star rating and a healthy tip.

That’s how Lena finds herself in Andrea’s bed, hands fisted in the sheets as she gasps for breath after a rather fabulous orgasm. She’s only too happy to return the favor. It’s just as well that neither of them has plans in the morning because the next few hours are spent mostly horizontal, though they do throw in some vertical action for variety. A fridge near the bed provides bottled waters - Andrea would have made a good Boy Scout - and leaves them no reason to do anything but each other for hours on end.

Those hours do eventually come to an end, and Lena finds herself lying next to a slumbering Andrea, watching the rise and fall of the other woman’s chest. She’s forgotten this, forgotten how good Andrea looks in repose with the fading beams of moonlight streaming in, forgotten what a generous lover Andrea can be, forgotten the way their bodies fit together with a quiet desperation ignited by their shared passion.

Lena has worked very hard to forget this part of their relationship, the parts that leave her smiling and rocked back on her heels. She didn’t come for this. Lena has an agenda, one born of a wronged lover and fueled on by a need for revenge mixed with justice. Damn Andrea for being so beautiful. Lena’s heart may be dark, but it isn’t black.

She slips into her bra and panties silently, slinking through the apartment like a thief. Stealth has become second-nature. There’s a picture of Andrea and her father on the mantle. He does look good, older, but growing old is better than the alternative. They seem happy together, and just for a moment, Lena understands Andrea’s priorities. What would Lena have done for a living father who needed her? As much as she likes to think otherwise, Lena is hardly one to preach on morals. Maybe it is time to let this all go.

Lena paces, weighing her options, when her elbow strikes Andrea’s purse and knocks it off the counter and onto the plush carpet below. Andrea doesn’t even stir, Lena is happy to see. It’s not surprising as Lena was the one ordering drinks, and her virgin daiquiris didn’t pack the same punch as Andrea’s beverages of choice.

Item after item that spilled out of the purse is stuffed back in until Lena’s hand freezes on Andrea’s phone. When Lena lifts it, it lights up, the lock screen on display. It’s Andrea and a man Lena has never seen before. He has a short beard, heavy brows, and skin a few shades darker than Andrea’s. They’re pressed close together, smiling, and he’s looking down at Andrea with an expression Lena knows all too well. She’s lived that look of love, adoration, and trust.

Hands trembling, she pushes the phone back into the purse and rests the whole thing on the counter again. Shit. Fuck. Whoever this is, he didn’t come up in Lena’s research into Andrea, but he’s obviously someone. A quick scan of the apartment doesn’t show any photos, but there’s a mailing label on a magazine that sheds some light: Russel Rogers CEO of Rogers Engineering. The magazine is fairly mundane, the kind you’d find in a waiting room, but the dog-eared article, ‘How to Know if You’re Compatible Lovers’, with Andrea’s familiar and flowing handwriting near questions and other handwriting, unfamiliar and masculine, leads Lena to an obvious conclusion.

The label looks like a business address, and Lena grabs her own phone to look up the man. The picture smiling back at her makes her grit her teeth. It’s him, the man on Andrea’s phone. Lena does some world-class social media stalking in record time, and the reason for the secrecy around Mr. Rogers becomes clear when Mrs. Rogers and the little Rogers show up on his feed.

Given Andrea’s history, Lena wonders why she’s surprised. Her mind races with a clear memory of one of the last things her father told her. “When someone shows you who they are, Lena, believe them.” Yes, Andrea has never been dishonest about her dishonesty. Maybe it’s time Lena learns to listen.

As she digs through Andrea’s purse, Lena tells herself this is a good thing. She’s back on task, moving forward with the plan again, but it doesn’t make her feel any less dirty. She swipes Andrea’s badge through her own homemade device, waiting for the light to turn green before putting the badge back in the purse. Then she dresses and heads out, only pausing briefly at the door for a last look back.

One text goes to Andrea, thanking her for a wonderful evening and promising to see her again soon. There are other things, snide bits of undertone she needs to write and then erase. As good as they may feel, they serve no purpose. The second text goes to her driver who is waiting at a parking lot nearby and is downstairs by the time Lena gets there.

As the car pulls away, Lena watches Andrea’s apartment recede. Everything is going according to plan. Lena just didn’t expect the plan to hurt this much.


	6. You Don't Know What You Have Until You've Lost It

Danvers Extraordinary Objects and El Marayah share part of the building that had once been their parents’ gallery. Most of it is rental now, a gym on the bottom floor that Kara and Alex both frequent. The upstairs is where their businesses are housed along with a CPA’s office and a small law firm. The rents cover the mortgage, and the work covers the payroll. That’s why they need to get to work.

Morning updates are a regular part of the team’s work, and today is no exception. Kara always says that teamwork makes the dreamwork. Though Alex rolls their eyes at the unbridled optimism, they don’t disagree either with the general sentiment or with their sister’s enthusiasm. The former is true and the latter is hard-earned.

The office itself is a simple setup. There are four desks: Alex’s, Kara’s, Winn’s, and one for any contractor working a job. The contractor desk is sparse, just a laptop, a single file, and a coffee mug at the moment. Alex’s desk sits at an angle near a corner with large filing cabinets surrounding it. Their latest ‘murder board’ sits on one wall, pictures, notes, and sometimes just a word that make sense only to Alex but provides a visual for whichever case the group is working on. The other wall has a large whiteboard with three columns: prior thefts, physical skills needed to pull off the latest theft, and a few words more on the thief’s psychology (like adrenaline junkie).

Winn has the most high-tech setup, naturally, and it’s surrounded by a collection of action figures from some of his favorite movies and TV shows. Kara’s desk is as sparse of paperwork as the one Sam is using. A small scanner and shredder sit in the corner, and paperwork goes into one and then the other (in the right order) to be added to her electronic filing system. Her biggest shortcoming is that mail is never prioritized, a reason why Alex insists on handling the bills for the business utilities and vendors and just chasing Kara down for her part.

“Okay, I need updates, people.” Alex tosses a banded pile of mail over to Kara, who lounges at her desk, as they enter the office. It stops the general chit-chat and causes the others to sit up a bit straighter. “Winn, tell me you have something else for me on our hacker.”

Winn pushes a McDonalds’ breakfast wrapper from his keyboard, his fingers flying across the keys with an agility that escapes the rest of his body. “I tried to find the hacker’s IP address, but the source field was Spoofed. A DNS search was also a dead end.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I think it means you have jack-shit.”

“Not true. I do have one thing. The hacker signed their work.”

“You have their name?” Kara asks around a mouthful of doughnut. Though her physique says otherwise, Kara thinks fried and glazed are important components of a balanced breakfast. Alex thinks Kara’s abs are damnable liars.

“Their signature. Hacking a system is a matter of pride. You don’t want to get caught, but you also want to take credit. It’s a double-edged sword.”

“It sounds like a dumbass thing to do. Who commits a crime and then signs their name?” When Winn refuses to meet their gaze, Alex asks, “Is that how they caught you?”

“I plead the fifth. Anyway, the signature in the Asian Art Museum’s security system was ‘Miss Mercer Owns You’, and I’ve seen it before.”

“So as a fellow hacker, you know this person?”

“I’ve told you before, Alex, I’m not a hacker. I’m a hacktivist. It’s—”

“An important distinction.” Alex rolls their hand in front of themselves. “Just tell me about this Miss Mercer. Do you or don’t you know her?”

“I’ve seen the signature before. I’ve just got to,” Winn gestures toward his computer, “find out where. I feel like it was a while ago.”

“And this will help us find the person behind the robberies?” When Winn shrugs, Alex turns away. It’s too early in the morning to get set off by the geek squad of one. “Kara, tell me you have something for me on the security front.”

“Yes, definitely, sort of ish.”

“Jesus Christ. Can’t anyone give me a straight answer today?”

Kara, Winn, and Sam exchange looks. It’s an old joke but a goodie.

“Never mind. I’m talking to the wrong group for that. Kara, continue.”

“Okay, check this out.” Kara turns her laptop around, and with a few keystrokes, brings up a paused video. “Security in the museum was compromised, inside and out, but security in surrounding buildings was not. This is from an apartment rooftop about a block away.”

“They have security on an apartment rooftop?” Alex asks.

“The building manager said they’ve had some issue with kids drinking and smoking pot. You know, kid stuff, but the tenant association wanted to put a stop to it, so they put in security cameras. Now watch.” Kara starts the video, and the group waits and watches for something to happen on screen. At first, not even a pigeon comes into view, but then there’s something, something airborne which doesn’t move like any bird.

“What the hell is that?”

“That’s what I said the first time I saw that. Here.” Kara clicks on a folder below, opening it to reveal a series of jpgs. She chooses one, opening it to the side to reveal a slightly out of focus picture of a drone with something bundled underneath it.

“It’s a toy,” Alex says.

Winn gasps, an actual gasp complete with a hand pressed to his chest. If he was wearing pearls, he’d no doubt be clutching them. “Do you just lie in bed at night thinking up new ways to insult me?”

“Yes.” Alex doesn’t skip a beat. “How did I succeed this time?”

“Alex, that’s the XFold Rigs Travel-8URTF October Drone rig with three-axis gimbal.”

“Clear as mud. So not a toy?”

“A toy? Pfft. It has a 21.8-pound payload capacity, dual-operator controls, uses the DJI NAZA V2 flight control system, and has an eight or twelve motor and propeller set configuration. Does that sound like a toy to you?”

“Uhhhh… Kara?”

“It’s a fancy, high-tech, drone that’s easy to transport, very maneuverable, and can carry a lot of weight. It’s also stupidly expensive.”

“Define stupidly expensive for me.”

“Hold on.” It’s Kara’s phone that has this answer, and after just a few swipes of her thumb, she replies, “$13,399.00 plus shipping, retail. I guess they’re wrong. Crime does pay.”

“Holy fuck! Okay, that has to be traceable. There can’t be too many of those sold.”

“I’m getting a list. Don’t ask me about the favors I’m tapping.”

Kara doesn’t make eye contact, and despite what Kara has said, or maybe because of it, Alex wants to ask. But they don’t. Instead, Alex nods and lets it go for now, puts it in that little box for things to be unpacked later, maybe to be discussed between siblings without employees around. “Just let me know what you find out. So how does this drone play into the theft, exactly?”

“You’ll love this part.” Kara’s hand pauses, ready to click on the mouse as she smiles back at her sibling. “Actually, you’ll hate it, Alex, but I bet Winn will get a kick out of it. Watch the rest of the video.” As the video starts up again, it shows the drone stopping a few feet from the camera. Then a figure comes into view. They’re wearing all black from head to toe and stopped in the shadow of an A/C unit, but it’s daytime. The ambient light shows narrow shoulders and full hips, and when they turn in profile, a noticeably curved breast area.

Alex grabs the laptop, pulling the screen closer as if it might bring the thief nearer to being captured. “That’s a woman.”

“Yup, dibs.” At Alex’s scathing look, Kara amends her statement with, “I mean, dibs on catching her, ‘cause she’s the bad guy and all.”

Sam pats Kara on the shoulder, and her smile is all too knowing. As they watch the suspect take the bundle, likely the stolen statue, off the bottom of the drone and then fold the gadget up for travel, Sam says, “So, our thief planned out this seemingly perfect crime that was a year in the making and then missed the security on the building she flew the cargo too? That’s sloppy, don’t you think?”

“It looks that way, doesn’t it.” And Kara grins.

It’s a grin Alex has seen all too often. It’s a grin that says this chess game is over, but if you’re having fun, we can keep playing. It’s a grin that says I lifted that much when I was fifteen. It’s a grin Alex would love to wipe off her face one day, but today probably isn’t going to be that day. “Does your new girlfriend repel off the building or something?”

“No, but that would be hot.” Kara doesn’t even blink at the girlfriend comment. “She takes the stairs through the door on the left there. She probably takes the elevator after that.”

“She had to have taken off the outfit. Someone would have noticed a woman dressed like a cat burglar in their apartment building in broad daylight. Tell me we have a picture.”

“Nope.” Kara pops the P. “That video was replaced with an episode of Kim Possible. At least it was quality TV.”

“So our thief did all that planning with the security at the museum and the security inside the apartment but missed the rooftop? Doesn’t that seem odd?”

“Wait for it, Alex.” And there’s that grin again.

So everyone waits while the drone is packed in a case, and that case is stowed in a backpack. The thief turns to leave, and it looks like the video is at its end except for one last interesting fact.

“Did she… She flipped off the camera,” Alex says.

“Very purposefully,” Kara agrees.

“Why?” It’s the question everyone but Kara wants to ask, but Sam’s the one who voices it.

“Because,” Kara’s smile grows, “she wants to play. She left this for me. She wants me to find her.”

“Kara, are you saying this woman wants to get caught?” Alex asks.

“I doubt it, but she wants to be chased. She’s been doing this for who knows how many years, and no one has even connected her crimes before. That’s why she pulled her heist in broad daylight. She’s bored, and she wants a challenge. Let’s challenge her.”

“I may be able to bring us closer to the ‘how long has she been doing this’ answer,” Sam says.

“You have something for me?”

“Don’t I ever,” Sam mutters, but before Alex can ask for an explanation on _that_ , Sam is walking, long legs covering the room in a few strides before she heads back, commanding everyone’s attention as she does so… or at least Alex’s attention. “I found what I believe to be the earliest theft from this thief that we’ve seen so far. The painting was the Rue Saint-Honoré, Apres-midi, Effet de Pluie. Rue Saint-Honoré in the Afternoon Effect of Rain, by Impressionist Camille Pissarro. It was stolen from a local museum but was on loan from Madrid’s Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza six years ago.”

Alex makes some frantic notes on an index card before pinning it to the corkboard behind their desk. They hastily scrawl the painting information and timeframe on the top of the first column on the whiteboard and stop back. Alex is a visual thinker, and while their sister is more technology forward, there’s something organic, something grounding, about holding the pieces of the puzzle in your hands. “Another local theft and the earliest one we’ve found so far? That has to mean something, right?”

“I’m just here to provide the facts. I’ll let the recovery expert do the investigating, but this one has a very interesting history. The painting had originally belonged to the Cassirer family for four decades, but when the family tried to leave Germany prior to the start of World War II, the Nazis wouldn’t allow them to take the painting. The family was forced to take $360 for the painting, money that was kept in a bank account in Germany that they couldn’t even access. When a friend of the family saw it hanging in the museum a few years ago, it started a legal battle.”

Alex drops back into their chair. What has started as a simple art recovery grows more and more complicated with each piece of the puzzle. “That is interesting. Did it get stolen from the museum after the lawsuit had ended? If so, I take it things didn’t end the way the family wanted.”

“Gold star for you. Things did not. The painting was the property of Spain, and based on their own laws, Spain had a moral obligation to return the painting if they had any way of knowing it was stolen. However, the court decided they acted in good faith when they bought it from a Baron’s auction, and they ruled against the family.”

“And then the painting went missing?” Kara asks.

Sam nods. “And was replaced by a cityscape paint-by-numbers.”

“That’s gotta be our thief,” Alex says at the mention of the now all too familiar MO. “Do we think the family was involved?”

“The police investigated and didn’t find any link to the family. I have files on them, but without getting access to their passport data, I can’t swear to their travels in relation to any of the other crimes. They don’t seem to have the requisite skill set.”

“Winn, take the case information Sam has put together so far and do a social media search on all of the family members. People like to photograph their breakfast. If any one of them is having Semolina porridge in Russia or panir and flatbread in Persia around the time of one of the thefts, I want to know about it.”

“Understood. I’ll stalk them like a creepy forever teen vampire in Washington.”

“Fewer details, Schott, fewer details. Sam, you got anything else on this one?”

“Just general information. Of the roughly 600,000 paintings thought to be stolen by Nazis during the Holocaust, about 1/6th are still missing. That got me thinking.”

“Is this going to involve Nazis? Is this going to be some kind of Raider of the Lost Ark deal? Dibs on the fedora.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Kara, but I don’t think we’ll get to fight Nazis. This case did make me look into the history of all of our items a bit more closely, though.”

“And they involve Nazis?” Kara asks.

“No, but they were all stolen,” Sam replies.

Awkward looks are exchanged, no one wanting to state the obvious given the nature of their jobs until Kara breaks the silence. “I’m just going to be the one to sound dumb and say this. We’re investigating thefts. Isn’t that the point?”

“Every one of the items was stolen from a person or government prior to our thief striking. Ownership was or had been challenged.”

“Wait, so the thief is stealing stolen goods?” Winn leans back in his chair, his expression entirely too smug for Alex’s liking. “I told you this guy was good.”

Alex shoots him a look, glaring in a way that communicates several things, mainly threats against his job and person that don’t need to be voiced yet again and cause him to cringe. “That doesn’t make it any less illegal, but will it help us find other items that have been stolen?”

“Maybe. Art looting is hardly a novel concept, but I can cross-reference thefts in the past ten years against art whose ownership has been disputed. It could get us some other leads.”

“That’s good. Do that. This family that owned the painting, are they still local?”

“San Diego,” Sam says.

“Road Trip?” Alex asks.

“Road Trip.”

“All right!”

“Not you, Schott.” He’s already halfway out of his chair, but Alex’s words paired with one accusing finger and a patented glare quickly tamps down his enthusiasm. “You do your cyberstalking and let us know what you find. Sam, you’re with me. Kara—”

“I’ll stay. I’m busy, super busy.”

“Super busy?” After showing her video, Kara has spent the rest of the meeting scrolling through her phone with a silly smile on her face. Alex knows their sister well enough to trust that Kara can follow along even while looking at Insta, or whatever she’s doing, but it hardly makes for a compelling argument.

“Yeah, I’ve got all these bills.” It’s partially true. Kara’s method of paying bills is to ignore them until someone calls, then make nice with the caller and pay whatever is on her desk. It’s not about not having the money. It’s about prioritizing. “I’ve got my cell phone bill, car insurance bill, a letter from Querl Dox, my subscription to Just Labs Magazine, have to renew my AAA membership, this—”

“Whoa, back up. What did you say?” Alex asks.

“Just Labs? I know, right?” Kara flips the magazine around and proudly displays the chocolate Labrador on the cover. “Look at this puppy face.”

“Not that, dingus. You have a letter from Querl Dox?”

“Huh, I guess I do.” The letter is handwritten and thick, the kind of envelope that holds more than writing paper. The return address is clear though. It’s Querl Dox, up-and-coming star on the California art scene. “I wonder why he’s writing to me?”

“Probably a job. Open it.”

She does so and reads, and it’s clear when Kara’s gotten to the end of the letter. It doesn’t take very long before the crinkle between her brow appears. Then she’s reading from the top again, and very quickly, Alex is at the end of their patience.

“Well?”

“Oh, um, tickets.” Tipping the envelope reveals four tickets, all for Querl’s show this coming weekend. “It just says he wants me and my associates to be his guest, but it doesn’t say why.”

Alex wheels on Sam, hand held at head height and one finger extended straight up in this ‘ah-ha’ moment. “I told you she was psychic.”

“Or she heard through the grapevine that Querl was going to invite Kara and latched on to an opportunity to score an invite. Let me see the envelope.” A quick examination shows only a plain envelope, though the paper is nice, with lovely handwriting. “No stamp.”

“Which means what?” Kara asks.

“That it was hand-delivered today, though what that means I don’t know. I do know I’m heading over to San Diego to harass a lovely couple about art stolen by Nazis. Mx. Danvers, are you coming with? I’ll let you drive so you can yell at the other drivers in between conspiracy theory rants.”

“Two of my favorite things.” Keys in hand, Alex shoots a meaningful glance at both Winn and their sister before heading off for the day. “Feel free to crack this case wide open in my absence.”

It’s only about a thirty-minute trip to San Diego, and the traffic is fairly light. The duo listens to music, Alex allowing Sam to commandeer the radio (something Kara has complained Alex never lets her do), and chats. It’s the kind of easy conversation they fall into often, talking about work, about family, spending more time talking about Sam’s daughter Ruby than is necessary for Alex to be polite. It’s the kind of thing that spills into reminiscing, hopes for the future, laughter, and a feeling in Alex’s stomach that isn’t just friendship. When they finally reach the house, it’s none too soon and also too soon.

“This doesn’t look like the home of art thieves,” Sam says. It’s a one stucco home with a two-car garage. The landscaping is fine, nothing fancy, but well maintained. A short brick fence, not even knee-high, marks off the border of the property. If one needs to pick one word to describe the place, unremarkable would be a good choice.

“You’d be surprised. I’ve made recoveries in some crazy places. What’s the name of the woman we’re meeting?”

“Geraldine Greeves, she’s the granddaughter of Edith Cassirer who fled Germany. I told her I was an art authenticator and interested in talking about the painting’s history.”

“I take it you didn’t mention the thefts.” Sam’s smile is both stunning and all the answer that Alex needs. “That’s my girl.”

“Oh, so now I’m _your_ girl?”

“No, that isn’t what I—”

“Relax, Alex, I’m just kidding… unless.” There’s that smile again.

Alex is sweating from more than the early sun while they wait for the doorbell to be answered. Luckily, it’s a short wait.

“Mrs. Greeves? I’m Sam Arias. We spoke on the phone.”

“Of course, come in.”

Mrs. Greeves is a middle-aged white woman in her early to mid-fifties. Inside, the house continues its unremarkable theme. The furniture is clean but not new. There are a few antiques but nothing that would fetch a sum that would raise any eyebrows. If these folks are art thieves living under the radar, they’re doing it right.

“This is my associate, Alex Danvers.”

“Miss Danvers.”

“Please, call me Alex,” they say, choosing not to engage in the topic of gender identity and instead moving to the subject at hand. “We really appreciate you meeting with us today. We don’t want to take a lot of your time, but we’re hoping you can answer some questions for us about the painting uh…”

“The Rue Saint-Honoré, Apres-midi, Effet de Pluie, by Impressionist Camille Pissarro,” Sam says. “We understand it was in your family for many years.”

“About forty. Can I get you girls something to drink?” When both Alex and Sam decline, Mrs. Greeves takes a seat on a chair in the living room, leaving them to sit on the couch. “The Nazis confiscated a lot of art or forced refugees to sell them for pennies on the dollar. It was obscene. When the painting was discovered nearby, we couldn’t believe it. We thought our family would finally get justice.”

“But you didn’t.”

Mrs. Greeves shrugs, not showing any signs of distress over the subject to Alex’s keen investigative eye. “The courts ruled against us, said the museum was dealing in good faith. It’s ridiculous. There was so much stolen artwork, museums have to know they’re taking a chance. We had proof of ownership. That wasn’t even in dispute. They bought something that was stolen from us, but because they didn’t know it was stolen, they got to keep it. Does that sound fair to you?”

“Not really,” Sam admits.

“But then they got robbed.” Alex watches the woman closely. There’s no surprise, not that Alex expects it all these years later. There is a little glimmer and a smile that she doesn’t even try to hide. It doesn’t prove anything, but it’s noteworthy.

“Karma. You lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas.”

“You think someone the museum worked with stole from them?” Alex asks.

“How would I know who stole the painting? I’m just a school teacher.” That reaction is even more interesting. The reaction is defensive, but no one accused her.

“And what does your husband do for a living?”

This time there’s a pause, and she eyes Alex before cautiously replying, “Marketing. He works for a tire company. Personally, I think there’s only so many ways to say, ‘buy three get one free’, but he keeps coming up with some twist that keeps a roof over our heads, so I’m not complaining. Do you have any other questions?”

“When was the last time you saw the painting?”

When she frowns at Alex’s question, Sam adds, “It must have been very emotional for your family. Did you know that of the roughly 600,000 paintings thought to be stolen by Nazis during the Holocaust, about 100,000 are still missing?”

“I’m not surprised. They wanted to destroy any memory of us from the face of the planet. Genocide wasn’t enough for them.”

“Evil fuckers.”

“Alex.” Sam scowls. It’s a look she normally reserves for Ruby, but when dealing with Alex’s vocabulary around nice, older women, it sometimes comes in handy.

“No, she’s right. Nazis are evil. Don’t think they’re gone either. Making you believe their way is normal and disagreeing with them is uncivil is one of their greatest tools.”

Things have taken a turn, and the mood gets somber then. The goal for today is to ask a few questions and see if they get any leads. Current events don’t seem to agree.

“Anyway, the painting,” Mrs. Greeves says, “I last saw it in court. It was brought in as evidence. So beautiful. When we lost the case, it was returned to the museum. I don’t think it ever went back on display though.”

“No? I thought they found it had been replaced by a paint by numbers picture.”

She doesn’t even try to stop the laugh. “That was good, yes. The way I heard it, the painting was already boxed up for shipping, and they didn’t find the switch until they unpacked in Madrid.”

“I’m sure the police questioned you,” Alex says, watching for a reaction, some sort of tell, but all they get is a shrug.

“Of course, but can you see me as an art thief? Please. If we’d had the desire or ability to steal it, we wouldn’t have gone through several years and all the expense of a court case.”

“Do they know if it was stolen in California or en route?” Sam asks.

“I have no idea. The museum or the police could probably tell you more. I was just a person of interest. Why so many questions about the theft? I thought you wanted to know about the painting.”

“We did. We do,” Sam says. “In art authentication, a piece’s entire history comes into play. Knowing something like if a canvas has been cut from its original frame is critical.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense.” Mrs. Greeves seems to relax, some of the tension that has grown at Alex’s questioning bleeding from her body. “For a minute there, I thought maybe you two were trying to track down the thief and thought I knew who she was.”

Alex and Sam are sitting close enough that they feel Sam tense up next to them. Sam doesn’t get more than half a syllable out before Alex has grabbed her hand and is speaking over her. “No clue. Anyway, we’re not the police, though if you have any idea who the thieves are, I bet the museum is offering a nice reward.” Alex smiles back at Mrs. Greeves and with just as much sincerity. “I think we’re good here unless you have anything else to ask, Sam?”

“We are? Oh, I guess if you’re sure. Are you sure, Alex?”

“Yup, I think we got what we needed. Mrs. Greeves, would it be alright if I use your restroom before we go? We’ve got a bit of a drive back. I shouldn’t have gotten a large coffee on the drive over here.”

“I warned you about that,” Sam says.

“I know. I know.” Alex smiles between the two women as they both return the expression.

“Sure thing, hun. Down that hallway, first door on the left.”

“First door on the left, got it. I won’t be long.” Alex shoots Sam a meaningful look, happy to see Sam pick up the conversation again in their absence, this time talking about kids and grandkids, a topic sure to engross any grandparent.

That leaves Alex to do a quick reconnaissance of the lower level of the house. It doesn’t take long to find something of interest, a door with a fancy lock, keypad, and some kind of scanner. Alex thinks it’s for a thumbprint. They take a few quick pics and hurry to the restroom where they fire them off to Kara. After flushing the toilet, for effect, Alex washes their hands, not surprised to hear a responding text.

Kara: “Ultraloq UL3 BT. It uses Bluetooth, fingerprint scan, and security codes. It sends an alert to your phone if the lock is tampered with or too many incorrect codes or fingerprints are entered.”

Kara: “Turning off power turns it into a normal lock, but it’s a well-built, commercial brand. It’s home grade security, but it’s decent quality.” 

Kara: “Where is this? You usually see those on an external door. That looks internal.”

Alex: “Sam and I have a lead. I’ll explain when we get back to the office.”

Alex: “You get through all that mail?”

Kara: “What mail?”

Kara: “Oh, yeah!”

Kara: “Paying a bill right now. Talk to you soon.”

Alex shakes their head as they shove their phone back into their pocket and head back into the living room. The ladies now sit side-by-side on the couch, Sam holding out her phone and showing off pictures, doubtless of Ruby. Alex stands quietly for a moment and watches from afar, failing to fight off the image of Sam doing the same thing with Alex’s mother. When Sam looks up, catches them, and offers a bright smile, it doesn’t help. Alex’s rules exist for a reason no matter how much Sam makes Alex want to dash those rules into tiny little bits and sweep them away.

“All set?” Sam asks.

“Much better. Mrs. Greeves, thank you for meeting with us today, but we won’t take any more of your time.”

“Oh, it was no bother. You girls come around any time if you have more questions about the painting. I never get to talk to anyone about it anymore.”

At the door, Alex says, “You can be sure we will,” and they mean it.

They’re halfway down the walkway when Sam asks, “You caught her slip up, right?”

“That she knows the thief is female? Oh, yeah. Pressing her on it wasn’t going to get us anywhere but thrown out. Instead, I got this.”Alex pulls out their phone and pulls up the photos of the lock. “What do you think?”

“That was in the house? It looks fancy.”

“Kara says it isn’t super fancy, but it is a step above normal locks. It’s also odd to see it on an inside door.”

“Unless you have a room inside your house you really want to protect.” They stand on the sidewalk in front of the house, and Sam’s gaze sweeps the building. “Which room was it?”

“Um, around the side of the house on our right in the back. Where are you going?” Sam has already taken off, and Alex has to hurry to catch up to the leggy brunette. “What are you up to?”

“I just want to get a look from the outside.” Sam stops on the side of the house, brows furrowing as she plants her fists against her hips. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“What is? I just see a house.”

“The curtains.” Sam gestures first to the room in question with its closed, heavy curtains and tinted windows. Then she points to other parts of the house. If curtains are present, they’re drawn to let light in. “The ones in our mystery room are light-blocking, and the tint on the windows filters out UV which can be very harmful to paper and pigments.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I’d have to get an up-close look at the curtains and the windows, but I don’t think Mrs. Greeves is going to let us into that room. If I was hiding a very expensive, stolen painting in a room in my house,” Sam gives Alex a very pointed look, “that’s the sort of thing I’d do to protect it.”

“Oh, my God. Sam, I could kiss—”

That last word just hangs there, and with brows raised and a little smirk, Sam waits through several seconds of awkwardness while Alex’s mouth opens and closes, soundlessly. “Not gonna finish that sentence, huh?”

“Um… I really do need to use the restroom. I should have gone while we were in there. How about we stop off at a cafe. I’ll buy you a coffee, and we can discuss the case.”

“So we’re going to pretend that didn’t happen?” Alex’s blushing non-response as they walk back to the vehicle is answer enough. “As usual. Fine, get me a coffee and a danish, and I won’t tell your sister about that.”

“Deal.”

With the help of a GPS, they find a Starbucks just a few miles away. They chat idly while in line, talking around details of the case and avoiding the other subject lying between them. As they head to a corner table with two coffees and a blueberry muffin (it just looked better than the cheese danish), Alex’s phone rings.

“Hold on, it’s Kara.” They slide into chairs, and Alex answers. “Hey, what you got for me?”

_“Hello to you too. So, I got information back on the list of drone orders.”_

“Wow, you’re quick.”

_“Heh, that’s what she said. Wait, was that a self burn?”_

Alex looks over at Sam with the endless suffering of an older sibling, garnering them the smile of someone familiar with the Danvers siblings’ antics. “Just tell me what you found.”

_“You should mention to Sam that you’re not a fan of foreplay.”_ When that’s only met with a growl, the sound of Kara clearing her throat proceeds, _“Okay, business it is. I actually started working on the list yesterday. I traded the police my surveillance video and information on the drone if they shared the list with me, and they agreed.”_

“And by police, you mean…?”

_“I mean don’t ask. You won’t like the answer.”_

Alex presses their lips together tightly, refusing to let the feelings inside spill out. Their relationship with their ex-girlfriend is complicated, and Kara’s continued interactions with Maggie, even for a valid business reason, doesn’t sit well. However, in a public place with Sam’s curious gaze settled on them is no place for this conversation, so it’s once again shelved.

“Fine. What did you find out?”

_“That a lot of people spend stupid money on drones. We’re in the wrong line of work.”_ Before Alex can angrily ask for relevant information, Kara provides some. _“But, I found something, a lead, a major lead.”_

“Great work. I’m proud of you.”

_“My life’s goal,”_ Kara replies, and the sarcasm isn’t lost on her sibling. _“I found one sent to a P.O. Box in San Diego. Guess what the name of the company ordering it was.”_

“Kara—”

_“Mercer Industries.”_

“You found her. Yes!” It’s a big lead indeed, the first concrete piece of evidence they have to the elusive Miss Mercer. In a fit of excitement, Alex slams their hand against the table and squeezes. Unfortunately, there’s a drink in that hand, and neither the cup nor the contents fare well. Half of the coffee mushrooms out of the ruined cup and floods the table. “Fuck!”

“Alex!?” Sam is on her feet, avoiding the growing lake of black liquid and looking across to Alex doing the same.

“I’m sorry, sorry,” Alex says, escaping the table to head toward the trash and the napkin dispenser.

_“You okay?”_

“Just a little spill,” they say as they drop their cup in the trash, shake their hand off, and begin to pull out napkins by the handful. Cradling their phone between their shoulder and their ear allows them to clean the wet hand and speed up the collection process. “Kara, you need to track down that P.O. Box and find out everything you can on it.”

_“In process.”_

“How about the payment method? Do you have credit card info so we can track down a billing address?”

_“Nope. It was a prepaid VISA card, basically untraceable.”_

“For fourteen grand? I thought those things were for like $100.”

_“Limits go up to $15,000 on some of them. I’m willing to bet our thief took that into account when choosing their drone.”_

“Are you smiling?” Their sister’s reputation with women is well earned, not bad, just not always the shiniest penny in the bank when it comes to the fairer sex. Trying to keep concern disguised as anger at bay, Alex takes their pile of napkins and heads back to the table. “You sound like you’re smiling.”

_“I’m just respecting another professional’s attention to detail.”_

“A thief,” Alex says as they drop the napkins onto the table and begin to sop up the spill. The table gets mostly dry, moisture still spotting the top in places, but it’s a vast improvement. However, the coffee has since waterfalled to the floor, pooling into a slip hazard that needs more attention than a few napkins. “Hold on,” Alex says to Sam who has grabbed a few napkins to wipe drops that have made it to her seat, “I’ll go get someone to clean this up.”

_“Clean what up?”_

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Alex says as they head back to the counter. There’s a line, and Alex waits with what passes for their patience. “Okay, where were we?”

_“Mercer Industries.”_

“Right, right. Okay, the card is untraceable, so where does that lead us?”

_“The post office isn’t going to tell me anything about someone who has a P.O. Box so—”_

“So the cops are involved.”

_“Alex—”_

“I’m not asking any questions. I can’t think of another way around this one.” The line moves slowly forward, not doing anything to help Alex’s mood with this conversation. “What else can we do?”

_“Just wait for the warrant to come through. When it does, I’m heading down to the post office with… with the police. Hey, what was up with that lock picture you sent me?”_

“Oh, that. Sam and I found something interesting in that house we visited.” Alex looks around, searching for prying eyes and ears. It seems unlikely here that anyone would know what their business even is, but unlikely does not mean impossible. When they speak again, it’s in hushed tones. “There was a room with that fancy lock, and it had tinted windows and light-blocking drapes.”

_“Like for protecting art?”_

“That’s what Sam thought, but nothing else in that house looked valuable. We think they have the p.a.i.n.t.i.n.g.”

_“Why are you spelling? Are you around kindergarteners or something? That’s not even a bad word.”_

“No, I’m just—”

“Next!”

Alex steps up to the counter, telling their sister, “Hold on,” before saying to the young man there, “Hey, we had a little accident with the coffee. I think we need a mop.”

“A mop,” he repeats with a sigh. “Yeah, okay. Where are you sitting?”

“Back corner, over that way.” Alex gestures toward a somewhat secluded area, not visible from their current location. “I also need another coffee, black, two sugars.”

He nods, ringing up the order as Alex swipes their card for payment. “I’ll get someone to clean that up. Just give me a minute.”

With another nod, Alex steps away and waits for their drink. “I’m in public. I just want to be careful of what I say.”

_“So you think these folks are behind the thefts?”_

“Honestly? No.” Alex has a good gut for crime after all these years. They’ve met some unsavory sorts and helped bring a few of them to justice. After a while, you get a sense for these things, and Alex’s senses just aren’t lighting up here. “It just doesn’t sit right. I feel like they have the painting, but I don’t think they stole it.”

_“It didn’t walk there on its own. Wait, do you think they bought it from the thief?”_

“That’s a good question. Have Winn look into the finances for the Greeves family around the time of the theft and forward. You know what I always say, right?”

_“Yup. Follow the money.”_

“Follow the money,” Alex agrees, taking their beverage and heading back towards the table. About ten tables back from where Sam sits, Alex has slowed to a near halt. Kara is still talking, but right now it’s not much more than a buzz in their ear. With a bright smile, Sam looks up, but she isn’t looking at Alex. She’s looking at the man, the tall and generically good-looking man, who’s standing by the table just a bit too close to Sam for Alex’s liking.

_“Alex, are you still there?”_

“Uh… I’ve got to call you back, Kara. Something came up. Good work on the… everything.”

_“Is everything all—”_

Phone hung up and slid back into their pocket, Alex picks up speed and makes it to the table in a few quick strides. It isn’t until they’re practically back at their seat that Sam even notices them, and that fact just increases Alex’s rising tension.

“Oh, hey, you’re back.”

Alex grinds their teeth at Sam’s comment, not responding, just eyeing the man. He’s a tall, over six feet, white guy with teeth that have clearly been whitened. He needs a shave, and considering the fact that it’s still morning, it’s clear that’s the look he’s going for. His suit isn’t new or expensive, but it’s in decent condition, though his shoes could use a shine. The watch is Shinola, a decent American watchmaker out of Detroit that probably costs more than the guy’s suit. By the wear on the band, that he should replace, Alex guesses it belonged to his father or grandfather. When Alex meets his gaze, the man’s smile intensifies as does Alex’s dislike for him.

“How long was I gone? Who’s your new… Who’s this?”

“Alex, this is Vincent. He was just keeping me company while you were gone.”

“Vin to my friends.” He extends his hand, and Alex watches it like it’s a viper that might strike.

“Well, thanks for looking after her, Vincent,” Alex says without shaking his hand, “but I’m back now, so you can get back to whatever it was you were doing. Bye.”

“Alex.” Alex doesn’t need to look at Sam’s face. They’ve heard the disappointed mom voice often enough. “Vincent, it was very nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime.”

“Maybe you could give me a tour of one of those museums since you’re an expert.”

“She’s not a tour guide.” Alex really doesn’t like this guy. “We’re working. You should leave.”

“Alex.” This time Sam’s voice comes out as a hiss. When Alex chances a glance in her direction, the expression is about what they expected. They’ll be talking about this, but so long as they do it without other company, Alex is fine with that. “Vincent, I apologize for Alex, but they’re right. We are on the clock. Have a great day.”

“Call me,” he says as he slides his business card along the table in Sam’s direction. Then he leaves with a final smile.

Alex grabs up the card before Sam can move. It’s streaked with moisture from the remaining bits of coffee that haven’t fully evaporated. Sitting, a heavy frown paints their face. “Vincent P. Head, VP of Sales. Ugh. Salesmen are the worst.”

Before Alex can tear the card in half, as they’re about to do, Sam yanks it out of their hand. “He was polite. You’re the one that needs a lesson in manners.”

“What?”

“Don’t _what_ me. What the hell was that about, Alex?”

It’s not a complicated question, but the emotions rolling around inside of Alex are. The guy was fine, normal, average, and possibly even nice. He’s the kind of guy a good friend would encourage Sam to call if she was interested, yet with every moment he stood there, Alex’s dislike of him grew. Alex knows it has nothing to do with this stranger, but the reason is something they’ve been pushing away since Sam started working for them.

“It was nothing. We have work to do, and he was in the way.”

“He was in the way?”

Alex nods though perhaps a bit too forcefully.

“Well, at least that was honest. He was in the way of something, but it wasn’t work.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But they do.

“Enough, Alex. This act isn’t attractive, it isn’t endearing, and it isn’t fair to me.” Before Alex can feign ignorance again, Sam adds, “You were jealous.”

There it is, the thing they don’t talk about. Oh, they dance around it, sometimes flirting a bit until it feels real, and then Alex throws up the shield of work and denies, denies, denies. Sam has been patient. The friendship between them is good, and the possibility of more one day is lovely, but everyone has their breaking point. Apparently, Sam has reached hers.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Sam reaches across the table, not touching Alex but laying her hand palm up and open. It’s an invitation, an opportunity to reach out and bridge the gap. “Alex, will you go out with me?”

The word yes hangs on Alex’s lips, begging to be released. Sam is kind, funny, smart, beautiful, a mom, everything Alex could ever want in a partner and one thing they don’t. “No. I’m sorry, Sam, but I don’t date people from work. You know that.”

And Sam does. No matter how they’ve acted, Alex has repeated that phrase ad nauseum. The response shouldn’t come as a surprise, but the way Sam’s face falls and she pulls her hand away has Alex restraining themself not to grab that hand and pull it close. There’s enough room between should and will to fit two bruised hearts.

“I’m sorry, Sam I—”

“It’s fine.” But Sam’s tone tells a different story. She pulls the lid off her coffee, draining the last of it as she rises. “You won’t hear another word from me on the subject. From now on, it’s just business between us. I expect you can respect that boundary since you’re so good at setting them.”

“What do you mean just business? Aren’t we—” Alex grabs their coffee and hurries after Sam’s retreating form, nearly tripping over the kid with the mop bucket who’s finally shown up to clean the spill. Unfortunately, Alex will need to handle this other mess themself. Sam is outside, tapping something on her phone, by the time Alex catches up. “Hey, wait up! Sam, we’re still friends, right?”

There are several long moments while Sam finishes with her phone, moments made all the longer when Alex notices Sam is typing Vincent’s information into her contacts, until she lifts her head and meets Alex’s earnest gaze. “I need some time.”

“Time? Time for what?”

“I need some time to get away from whatever hasn’t been happening between us. I’ll finish this job, but then don’t call me again. When I’m ready, I’ll be in touch.”

“You’re quitting? You can’t quit.”

“I don’t work for you, Alex,” Sam says, her volume finally rising as the disappointment that has been in her voice is edged out by frustration. “I’m a consultant. I work with you, and I’ll do this job as we agreed but after that…” The silence and head shake that follow are a punch in the gut.

“After that what?”

“After that I don’t know. After that, I’ll figure out what I need. Me, I’ll figure it out, and you’re not part of my process, Alex. I’m respecting your desires. You respect mine.” Without another word, Sam heads to the car and tugs on the passenger door. It’s as locked up as tight as Sam is right now. “Will you open this, please?”

Alex wants to say no. They want to go back to before today went sideways and have a do-over. They want a lot of things, but like their mother says, “Want in one hand and spit in the other and see which gets filled first.” So they open the door and drop their own coffee in a nearby trash can. It would have turned to ash in their mouth anyway.

The drive back to the office is silent and uncomfortable. Each time Alex thinks to say something, a glance over at Sam’s tense profile changes their mind. She only stays long enough to grab her computer, say she’ll be following up on some leads, and heads out. Alex stands staring at the closed office door long after Sam has gone.

“Did someone turn up the a/c, or was that Sam?” Kara asks without looking up from her computer.

“I think I fucked up,” Alex says in way of response.

  
“You messed up with Sam?” Winn snorts. “What were the odds.”

“Not helping, Schott,” Alex snaps, but their heart isn’t in it. Even the familial bickering feels cold and empty. “Something happened.”

Kara’s gaze flicks to Winn who has retreated behind his system, refusing to make eye contact. “Yeah, we got that, Alex. You want to talk about it?”

Alex stares at the board behind her desk, the one with pictures and notes pinned in place. It’s their attempt to bring order to a chaotic landscape. Unfortunately, you can’t piece together your love life as easily. “Sam asked me out. I said no.”

“Okay. Ouch, but I don’t see why that would set her off. You’ve been pretty honest with Sam about your dumbass, ridiculous no dating coworkers policy.” Kara is not pulling any punches. “Rejection hurts, sure, but she had to expect it.”

“I sort of… There was this guy and… I got jealous,” Alex finally admits. Saying it out loud gives life to so much they haven’t given voice to before. “A guy was flirting with Sam, and I got jealous. I chased him off because I’m an idiot who wants things both ways.”

“And Sam tried to get you to play chicken after that, and you didn’t swerve?”

“I have a policy.”

“A stupid policy,” Winn mumbles.

Alex barely even hears him. Something that would normally piss them off is just background noise against the frantic beat of their heart. There has to be a solution to this mess, but right now, all Alex can think of is excuses. “You know what happened with Sara. That was a disaster.”

It’s hard to see the broken little girl that was Kara in the confident woman that approaches Alex now. She grasps Alex’s shoulders, speaking directly in the way Alex desperately needs even if they don’t want. “You got your heartbroken. That’s just life. Sara liked you, liked you a lot.”

“But then she fell in love with Ava.”

Alex spent a long time trying to get to know themself, trying to come to terms with their sexual orientation and gender identity. They spent so long in that process that other parts of their life have been delayed. Relationships are few and far between, and feelings are explosive. It would be more of a surprise if early relationships weren’t a roadmap of dead ends. We learn more from failure than success, but it’s also important to learn the right lesson, and keeping people at arm’s length isn’t it.

“She did. She was never in as deep as you were, and you got hurt. That sucks, but you’re forgetting something incredibly important.” Alex waits, hanging on Kara’s words. “Sam isn’t Sara.”

“Sam isn’t Sara,” Alex repeats. “I know she’s not Sara but… You’re right. I was unfair to Sam. I led her on and pushed her away every time she got close. I fucked up.”

“You did. You treated her like a girl under glass: break in case of emergency. Even if all you can offer is friendship, that’s not the way to go about it.”

Alex grabs the back of their neck with both hands, nodding. “You’re right. I owe her an apology. I need to… What do I need to do?”

“Give her space, Alex. Sam and you are friends, and I still think you could be more if you’re willing to pull your head out of your ass. Either way, let her set the pace. When she’s ready, be honest and respect whatever she can give you in return.”

“Thanks, Kara.” Alex manages a smile, a small one, but it’s honest. If there’s one thing they can count on in this world, it’s their sister. “How did you get so wise?”

“I’ve just pissed off a lot of women. The good news is they usually come back around to yell at you again.” Then Kara smiles back, and Alex is sure everything will be alright. “The bad news is they come back around to yell at you again.”

“You think Sam will yell at me?”

“With a Danvers personality? I think you can count on it.”

It’s a sad commentary that the promise of an angry woman gives Alex hope.


	7. There's Nothing Up My Sleeve

Kara has always exemplified the soft butch aesthetic. From her button-down shirts and dress slacks to her low-top Oxford shoes, her look is one of someone who opens doors and pulls out chairs but without any unease when the same is done for her. Her look is soft hair curling over her shoulders with hard muscles underneath. Unlike her sibling, she consistently identifies with a gender but not with gender roles.

“Alex, which tie, stripes or plaid?” Both are shades of blue. It’s basically Kara’s signature color. When she was just a baby gay coming into her identity, an attractive older girl (of all of sixteen) told Kara that ‘blue really brings out your eyes.’ It’s true, but it was more the messenger than the message that made this sale.

“You’re wearing that suit?” In contrast, Alex's gray suit, white dress shirt, and black vest and tie look far more subdued than their flashy sibling. It’s a truth about them, Kara being outgoing while Alex is subdued, private in a way that can be mistaken as anti-social.

“What? This is a great suit. You always say to go with blue.” Kara slides her hands down her torso, over the fabric of her bright blue suit with lighter blue pinstriping. The fabric is soft and tailored to fit over her broad shoulders and muscular arms, flowing where it should and tucking up in all of the right spots to accent her body. It’s hardly a subtle choice, but that’s the point.

“You’re sure people will notice you in that? You don't have anything brighter?”

Kara has never been good at picking up on her sibling’s sarcasm. Though capable of locating the tiniest security breach in an operation and correcting it before a theft occurs, she has a blindspot. Everyone does, and Alex is Kara’s.

Alex, who would wake up and would sit and talk to young Kara who had nightmares. Alex who beat up Jake when he lied and told other kids Kara had given him a handy behind the bleachers. Alex who was the first person to make Kara laugh after the accident that killed Kara’s parents and then held Kara as she cried with guilt from daring to find some piece of happiness again. Kara has since found many good things in the world, like puppies, potstickers, and cute girls who like her eyes, but she has never found anything as good as Alex.

“Good idea,” Kara says with a snap of her fingers, and she’s off, heading out of the room at a brisk pace and toward her own bedroom. “I should wear my red suit. That will make me unforgettable.”

“Oh God,” Alex groans as they hurry after Kara, grabbing her arm. “Hey, no, on second thought, this is the suit, and this,” Alex pulls out the striped tie held loosely between Kara’s fingers and presses it against Kara’s torso, “is the tie.”

Alex smiles, and it feels like all the confidence Kara needs to get through the day. She feels her lips twitch as her own smile breaks free. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it brings out your eyes.” There’s a knock on the apartment door, interrupting their little moment. Alex stretches out their arm until their watch pops out from under their sleeve, their brow furrowing as they stare down at the time. “Ah, crap, Sam’s early. I still have to find my shoes.”

“Go. Go. I’ll let Sam in.”

“Do I… How do I look? This is pretty good, right?” Insecure isn’t a word most people would use to describe Alex, but most people don’t know them like Kara does. Oh, Alex has worked hard to earn their usual swagger, but heteronormativity leaves scars, even if they’re not visible. There’s a lot of bluster in Alex’s bravado.

Kara picks an imaginary piece of lint from their sibling’s suit and offers a gentle smile. “Like a million bucks. I’m sure Sam will think so too. Now, go get your shoes.”

With a grateful smile, Alex hurries back to their bedroom, and Kara crosses the living room to pull open the door.

Kara whistles, long and slowly, taking in Sam’s appearance. Sam’s dress is light gray and made from an airy material. It’s also strapless and plunges between her breasts. It’s a side of Sam Kara has never seen before - literally never seen but won’t soon forget. With her hair hanging loose over her shoulders, dangling earrings, and dramatic makeup for the night out, she’s a show stopper.

“Well, hello, nurse.” Kara leans against the doorframe, allowing her gaze to sweep across Sam’s form but not linger. As attractive as Sam is, there is an undeniable chemistry between her sibling and Sam. Crossing a line, especially in such a challenging moment of their lives, Kara would never do. Still, jokes roll easily off the tongue when the other option is dwelling in trauma. “Can you check my temperature because I am feeling h.o.t. hot all of a sudden... Or maybe it’s just you.”

“You flirt.” Sam swats Kara lightly on the shoulder with her purse, a friendly gesture as she grins at the compliment, and strolls into the apartment. “Are you two ready?”

“Just gotta tie my tie. Alex is hunting shoes.”

“Hunting shoes?”

“Yeah, they’re a wily prey.”

From the bedroom can be heard Alex’s frustrated exclamation. “Oh, come on. Why do I buy the same shoe in blue, black, and brown, and why can’t I find two of the same color?”

“Apparently.” As Kara flips her tie around her neck, Sam asks, “Want a hand?”

“From a beautiful lady? Yeah. I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.” Kara grins in a way she feels is charming as Sam ties her tie and then pinches the knot when it’s done. She looks at herself admiringly in the mirror, her eyes shining brightly and picking up the hues from the fabric. Yeah, blue was the right choice. “Very nice job. You’re hired.”

“You’re hiring an official tie tie-er?”

“Yes.” Kara shrugs. “It doesn’t pay well, but what it’s missing financially it makes up for in my undying affection.”

Sam chuckles. “How could a girl turn that down? When do I start?”

“You just did. Hey, want to check if Alex needs help with their shoes?”

“I’ll pass.”

Kara winces at the flat tone in Sam’s voice, so far from the usual affection she uses in relation to Alex. Even with all Alex has told Kara about the fight with Sam, about Sam needing space, this hits differently. There’s the hot anger of a fight, but this cool aftermath is chilling. “Are you two still fighting?”

“We’re not fighting. We have a business relationship. Alex has made that clear often enough. I’ve just started listening.”

“Sam, they don’t mean it. Alex really—”

“Kara, stop, please stop. I can’t do this with them anymore.” As Sam sits on the arm of the couch, Kara follows so that they’re still face-to-face. “This hot and cold thing has gotten old. I get compliments and flirting, but when it feels too real, they shut down and deny any of it as if I’m making it all up.”

Kara reaches out, hesitating but finally taking Sam’s hand in hers. She just holds in, no stroking of thumbs over knuckles, no hint of intimacy, but it’s grounding. Kara can only hope it’s as grounding for Sam. “You’re not. Alex really likes you, cares about you. Give them time.”

“I have, Kara. I’m patient and receptive, but at this point, it just feels like a tease, and I don’t like that game. Did Alex tell you what happened the other week when they babysat Ruby?”

Kara shakes her head, but she had noticed a certain mood from Alex the next morning.

“When I got home, Alex and I started talking. We talked into the night until 2 AM. It was… incredible. I can’t remember having this good of a connection with someone ever.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“It was until it wasn’t.” Sam checks over her shoulder at a cry of triumph from the bedroom, but it’s quickly followed by aggravated cursing. “I asked them to stay the night.”

That was not what Kara was expecting. It hits like a jolt to the heart, and try as she might, she can’t contain the shock that she’s certain is written all over her face. _That_ seems like the sort of thing Alex should have mentioned.

“Oh, not like that,” Sam says, clearly interpreting Kara’s expression correctly. “I told them they should sleep on the couch since it was so late and especially since they were on their bike. I got them a blanket and a pillow, and I tucked them in. I kissed them on the forehead. It was entirely innocent, but when I started to move away, our eyes just locked on each other and…”

“Did you guys kiss?” Kara can’t believe how small her voice sounded. No, not small, reverent like whispering in a church. She’s curious but doesn’t want to break the spell of this story.

“No, but we wanted to, both of us. Alex put their hand on my face, stopping me from pulling away, but they didn’t say anything. As soon as I leaned forward—”

“Alex freaked out.”

“Yup, and bolted from the house. They suddenly remembered they had early morning plans and had to go. I tried to get them to just stay and talk to me, talk about what had happened, but they wouldn’t. Alex left me standing in my living room, folding up that stupid blanket, and when I tried to bring it up later, they deflected.”

Kara wants to be surprised by the full story, but sadly, it’s one of the most Alex things she has heard in a long time. “Ugh. Why do I have to be the pretty one _and_ the smart one.”

Thankfully, that makes Sam chuckle. “I guess it’s a curse?”

“One I’m forced to bear.” Kara places her hands on Sam’s shoulders, all levity aside as she stares into the other woman’s eyes. “Alex is an idiot, but they’re an idiot who has feelings for you. That’s what they’re running from, those and shadows of the past, not you.”

“I get that,” she says, squeezing one of Kara’s hands as she rises and takes a slow walk around the room. As she takes the time to formulate her next words, Kara just waits. She’s asking for patience from Sam, so she can show a little bit of that in concern. Finally, Sam turns, a look of determination… no, resignation on her face. “I’m tired of being haunted by Alex’s ghosts. I’m tired of paying for someone else’s sins.”

“Sam—”

“Let me finish. If Alex doesn’t feel they can have an intimate relationship with me for whatever reason, and it doesn’t matter what that reason is, I’ll respect that. I just need to be respected in turn. So I’m done with the flirting, the closeness, the lies that follow all of it. I’m just done, Kara. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah.” Kara sighs. “I’m really sorry, Sam. I thought you two were right for each other.”

“I think we are too, but maybe it’s the right people at the wrong time. We can’t change the past to make the future what we want it to be. Sometimes, we just need to accept things and move on.”

“Okay, two shoes, black, and the same kind,” Alex says as they enter the room, but the tension is practically visible. “What happened?”

When Sam gives her a long and meaningful look, Kara says, “Nothing. Let’s just get going so we’re not late. My elbows are in need of rubbing against other elbows, preferably the elbows of gallery owners who need better security. Come on. I’ll drive.”

“Then we’ll never make it because you’ll kill us all. I’ll drive.” Alex grabs keys from the hook near the door and pulls it open. Kara leaves without comment, just the usual eye roll at Alex’s need to be in control, but when Sam walks by, Alex says, “You look amazing tonight.”

“Thank you,” Sam replies icily and sweeps out of the room, setting the tempo for the evening. Professional… right.

<><>

Nia meets them outside of the Human Haus gallery, dressed in a two-tone blue dress and eager to begin the evening’s festivities. Alex points out that calling Nia to inform her of the invitations was really a formality. Indeed, Nia smiles knowingly, all too knowingly. Before Alex can comment… again, Kara leads them all inside with tickets in hand.

What could normally be an open section in the middle of the gallery is filled with people milling about. Kara’s gaze narrows in on the buffet table, practically overflowing with food. She’s only vaguely aware of the people with whom she came let alone other details.

“Not so fast,” Nia says, grabbing Kara by the upper arm and then squeezing, her hand briefly exploring the bicep through layers of clothing. “Very nice. You probably need to eat a lot to keep this muscle, but business before pleasure. Introduce me to Querl.”

“But I’ve never met him.”

With a teasing smile on her face, Nia shoos Kara away. “Why don’t you go change that then.”

“Fine,” Kara grumbles, looking fondly over at the buffet with its selection of cookies, cakes, and more substantial choices she means to get to… eventually. “But you have bad priorities, Nia.”

Finding Querl Dox proves easier said than done. Kara makes a circuit of the room, passing several groups of people who passionately discuss the art. She checks by the bar that's against the far wall, another hub of activity which proves equally futile. She eyes the buffet table where guests mill about, but Nia’s waiting not far away and discourages Kara with the shake of a finger. Finally, out of options and hungry, she stops a passing woman to ask for help.

“Excuse me, but do you know where Querl Dox is?”

The woman is a very attractive Latina in a black suit. Her suit jacket is closed at one button across her middle, and her shirt is open nearly as far down. Kara has many options for people to ask for assistance, but the view here has its perks. To most observers, this woman looks like any of the other guests, but Kara’s spied a discrete com in her left ear, barely showing behind her hair when the woman turned earlier. At events like this, even staff need to blend.

“And you are?” The woman smiles professionally, and the somewhat protective response immediately makes Kara think she’s in luck. She’s found someone who knows the man in question, personally.

“Kara Danvers, El Mayarah Security. Mr. Dox invited me tonight.”

“Miss Danvers, of course.” Her face lights up, a bright smile appearing at Kara’s name and it makes her lovely smile even more so. She shakes Kara’s hand complete with double grip action where she briefly squeezes Kara’s hand between both of hers. It’s a bit intimate but not unwelcome. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Your reputation precedes you.”

“That’s good to know. In my business, reputation is everything.”

“It is indeed. I’m Andrea Rojas, the director of Human Haus. Welcome to my gallery. Mr. Dox mentioned he’d invited you.”

Tonight is meant to be a night of meeting the affluent and well-connected, and it seems like Kara's hit paydirt on her first attempt. She should take this opportunity to get to know Miss Rojas, to make a connection and an even better impression, but there’s one burning question to be answered first. “Any idea why?”

“Why he invited you? Business, I’d assume, but you'll have to ask Querl. I’d be happy to–” She stops suddenly, one hand to the com in her ear, and Kara watches a slight frown appear on her face. It’s just a few seconds before she disengages from whoever was speaking to her, and the smile pops back on her face, looking almost as natural as before. “I’m sorry, Miss Danvers, but I’m being summoned to some sort of catering issue out back.”

“Food comes first,” Kara says, her gaze momentarily wandering to the buffet that Nia still guards from her. “I'm sure I can find him on my own.” Her gaze scans the heavy crowd again, and she really isn't.

“Let me point him out to you,” Andrea says, pushing up on her toes as she glances around the room. A quick scan results in a smile, as she points toward a group of three people near the far corner. “Back there. You can see his leather jacket. Good luck with work.”

“Good luck with food.” Kara waves, watching Andrea fade into the sea of bodies before she heads toward her destination.

Querl Dox looks nothing like Kara imagined. Most of her dealings are with gallery and museum directors or their security teams. She’s never interacted with any of the artists before. He looks… casual in his black leather jacket - covered in mathematical formulas - blue t-shirt and ripped up jeans. In retrospect, seeing this man surrounded by people in suits and dresses, Kara realizes she should have recognized him for who and what he is. No one but the man of the hour dresses down at a dress-up event.

Kara waits until the two people with him take their leave to step closer. “Mr. Dox?”

Querl turns and pushes a stray bit of his dark brown, shoulder-length hair behind one ear. “Please, call me Querl, and you are?”

That isn't the reaction she's hoping for from the person who invited her. Still, ever forward never back, she says, “Kara Danvers.”

“Ah, from El Mayarah Security. Excellent. Miss Danvers, I’m so happy you could join us this evening.” He gestures out at the crowd or perhaps at the art they surround. “How are you enjoying yourself?”

“Your work is magnificent, and I see a lot of art in my business. You really know how to speak to people through your work.” Querl pumps his chest out at the praise, though Kara is sure it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. “I was thrilled to be invited to one of your shows, thrilled and a bit surprised, actually.”

“Surprised?”

“I mostly work on pre-show security setups. I expect you already know this, but El Mayarah does the security for several galleries. Once the installs are complete and the security has been tested, that’s generally the last I see of the gallery.”

“That’s a shame.” Querl's tone is grave, his voice serious as he shakes one finger, almost scolding Kara. “What’s the point of protecting art if you can’t enjoy it?”

“That’s true, and like I said, I’m thrilled to be here, but I’m still really confused.”

Without warning, he begins to walk, and Kara lurches into action to keep step. He pauses long enough only to shake the occasionally offered hand before continuing forward. “Perhaps I can shed some light on the matter. You see, Kara… May I call you Kara?”

“Um, sure.” Forced to follow along to continue the conversation, Kara ignores every look that comes her way, but they’re just the odd appraisal. No one really seems to take much notice of her.

“You see, Kara, I believe in only working with the best, and I’m told that when it comes to security, you’re the best.” He pauses at one of his own pieces, a sculpture in marble and bronze of a man. The top head and shoulders are marble, but as you follow down the sculpture’s body, the bronze comes into play layered over the marble below. Each piece of bronze is finely sculpted with an intricate circuitry design: man becoming machine. When he glances over at Kara, it’s with raised brows and a pensive expression. “Is that true, Kara? Are you the best?”

In sales, a critical tool in one's toolbox is the elevator speech. Simply put, if you have twenty seconds to capture your audience's attention, if you only have as much time as they're trapped in an elevator with you, what do you say? It’s something you practice and hone until it rolls off the tongue. Kara has given her elevator speech on more than one occasion, and she has it down to a science.

“Mr… Querl, when it comes to security, you won’t find another firm as good as El Mayarah. Our people are highly trained, and our techniques are cutting edge. We recruit the best and the brightest, and we invest in ourselves first. We’re also privately owned, so we don’t have to answer to stockholders. Our success is our bottom line.”

“Confident! Good, I like that.” With a flourish of one hand, Querl walks away again and clasps his hands together behind his back, leaving Kara behind. He’s like a butterfly, fluttering from flower to flower, rarely stopping long enough to settle. In this case, the flowers are his art, but the sentiment is the same. Life is fleeting, don’t wait for it to come to you.

Once more, Kara hurries to keep time with him, grateful for her long legs and general athleticism as she carefully avoids patrons, dodging in between festive party-goers with champagne flutes and works of art she knows she can’t afford under the ‘you broke it you bought it’ clause. “I try. So, no offense, but why am I here tonight? Is it about the security in this gallery?”

“This show?” Querl scoffs and waggles a finger as he strolls. “No, Kara, I have bigger plans, and you are an integral part of my plans.”

An invitation to a gallery show coming out of the blue is intriguing, but this has Kara's interest. This sounds more like money, like making her paycheck a bit more steady. Though she’s hardly a driven capitalist, Kara is driven to pay her employees, though few they may be. “O-kay. What are these plans?”

Querl stops suddenly, spinning on Kara and making her step back. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Security is my middle name,” she says with good humor and a flash of teeth.

He looks left and right then leans in closer to Kara. “You see, I need you to do security,” as he speaks, his voice grows from a whisper to full volume, “because I’m going to be opening my own gallery.”

Kara looks around, but no one seems to be paying them any mind. If this is the way Querl keeps a secret, Kara can see any security for him will have quite a job ahead of them. “Gee, that sounds great. When though because I’m assisting with an art recovery right now.”

“I’ll have my secretary contact your office and set out our timeline.” He’s already waving this subject away as he gestures toward the party again. “But enough business for tonight. Why don’t you enjoy the refreshments and mingle with the rest of the guests? There are several gallery owners here tonight. Maybe you can drum up some more business.”

“I will. Thank you.” Kara is just about to turn away when another question strikes her. “By the way, who referred you to me? I'd like to thank them.”

“Jack Sphere.”

“The artist?” Kara can feel her lips drawing down into a frown, and she’s quite certain the crinkle between her brows has made an appearance.

“That's the man. You know each other, yes?”

“Well, I know his work.” She’s never met him, doesn’t think she’s seen any of his work in person. She did read an article about him last year, a tall man with a full beard and kind eyes. It’s one line from the story she pulls out to aid her right now. “His portraits are so lifelike that you expect them to talk.”

“Yes, a great talent, that one. He’s certainly a fan of yours too. Now go, mingle, enjoy. I don't want to monopolize your time.”

Kara takes several steps, feeling optimistic, and quite a bit hungry, as she eyes the buffet table. Unfortunately or fortunately, Nia’s glare is a firm reminder of the reason she sought out Querl in the first place. She makes a quick 180, hoping the man in question hasn’t wandered too far off yet. “Hey, Querl.”

Luckily, he’s still nearby, admiring one of his pieces of art as if seeing it for the first time. At the call of his name, he turns to her, one brow raised.

“I brought a guest who’s a huge fan of your work. Do you maybe have a minute to meet her?”

He steeples his fingers in front of himself, drumming them as his thumbs pressed together. “I always have time for a fan. Please, lead the way.”

Kara leads Querl back to where Nia stands with her back to them, examining the buffet as if making her selection. Even before Kara can speak, Nia turns with a knowing smile. It’s convincingly casual if you don't know Nia, but Kara sees more subterfuge, another part of the game Nia plays with everyone even though she’s the only one who’s read the rules.

“Kara, I thought you got lost, and who is your handsome friend?”

Kara rolls her eyes at the act but says, “Nia, this is Querl Dox, the artist whose work we came here to see. Querl, this is Nia Nal, a… um… a friend of mine.”

“Miss Nal, thank you for coming out tonight to see me. I hear you’re a fan, and I love meeting fans.”

“Mr. Dox,” Nia advances, her hand outstretched and her smile growing as Querl takes it, “I am definitely a fan. I’ve always been intrigued by the futuristic motif that one finds, sometimes subtly, in all of your work. Where do you get your inspiration?”

“You see, my dear,” Querl leans in a bit closer, “I am from the future.”

As Nia and Querl laugh, Kara once again rolls her eyes, this time walking away to grab a plate for the buffet. The food looks even better than it did a few minutes ago when she first saw it. She licks at her lips, trying not to drool.

“Kara,” Nia calls, causing the other woman to turn back, “whiskey, straight up.”

“But…” Kara eyes the buffet with more than a hint of regret, and her stomach throws in a rumble, not eager to be forgotten. It’s a battle of the wills, but a short-lived one before Kara nods. “Okay, for him or for—”

Nia shoos Kara away with the back of one hand before returning her full attention to Querl.

With a head shake, Kara makes her way over to the bar. Her stomach gives another rumble, and Kara silently promises it that this will be the last hurdle before feeding time. “Whiskey, straight up.”

The bartender nods, returning with a glass as he empties the last drips of the whiskey into her glass. He looks behind him and then crouches down, the sound of bottles lightly clinking together as he searches.

“I need to go to the back to get some new bottles. Lots of whiskey drinkers here tonight. Hold tight for a sec?”

Why is nothing easy tonight? However, Kara only nods, turning her back to the bar as she looks out over the crowd winding their way around the artwork. It’s your usual trendy group, and she does see a few faces of those she knows own or run a gallery. She also sees a few folks she knows to be collectors, and private collections need security too. Rich folks like to show off their art and the security that protects it to other rich folks. So many opportunities for—.

“God, who do you have to screw around here to get a whiskey?”

There’s something vaguely familiar about that voice, but when Kara turns, she’s certain she doesn’t know the speaker. A woman has just arrived at the bar. She’s as tall as Kara, though it’s due to four-inch heels that come to a point that could kill a man if they hit the right spot. Her dress is made from a coppery material, strand after strand of thin cord wrapped around the woman’s torso, tapering down her waist and then flaring out again above the hips. Kara’s gaze _respectfully_ follows the curves the dress has the pleasure of hugging. Thin straps of the same coppery cording, coming straight from the bustline of the dress, over a rather generous bust, disappear over the woman’s shoulders. As the woman moves, Kara watches the skirt, a collection of individual, hanging bronze cords, sway as her weight shifts. They dangle from above the hips to brush along the floor, and the hypnotic motion holds Kara’s gaze. There’s obviously some sort of under-skirt from the hips, something completely obscured by the skirting because Kara is looking damn hard to prove its existence, but it’s invisible with only minimum movement.

The woman’s dark hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and she wears matching, wide copper bracelets on each wrist. In her right ear are five diamond stud earrings, starting at the lobe and going halfway up the rise of the ear. Palms pressed to pants legs, Kara resists the urge to reach out and move a loose tendril of hair. The woman has pale skin and a sharp jawline, her features striking but not so much as the green of her eyes. Even with the woman’s bitter words, her eyes sparkle brightly, picking up hints of colored lights that reflect off of the surrounding art pieces.

It takes Kara a moment to blink out of her homosexuality induced haze before she slides her glass along the bartop to this newcomer. “Me, uh, mine, uh… Have. Mine.” She shakes her head, straining against the gay mess her sibling always accuses her of being, and mumbles, “Jeez, Kara, get it together.”

The woman holds the glass up, about one finger of whiskey, and examines it critically before looking over at Kara.

“I didn’t drink it. It was a light pour.”

“Describing this as a light pour is overly generous.” Still, she tips the glass back, swallowing the whiskey in one gulp and relaxing with a sigh. “God, I needed that. Thank you Miss…”

“Kara Danvers, El Mayarah,” Kara says, smiling and holding out a hand.

“Lena Luthor, charmed,” she replies, taking Kara’s hand in hers for a brief squeeze that does not leave Kara unaffected. The grip is firm, not forceful, and her fingers are long and elegant. They’re the kind of fingers Kara can imagine tracing their way up her forearm to appreciate her bicep, and she needs to tamp that thought down before it gets away from her. “You’re not the Danvers that was at my gallery the other day, the one upsetting my curator, are you?”

Kara’s eyes widen, and with some reluctance, she releases Lena’s hand. “Oh, that Luthor. Honestly, if Miss Chang was upset, that was probably my sibling’s doing. I’m actually pretty darn charming.”

That garners a quirk of the lips, not a full smile but enough of a movement that Kara’s encouraged as she asks, “Are you now? And what’s so charming about you?”

Elbow on the bartop, Kara leans forward and into this new and different opportunity. Alex always says business before pleasure, and Kara would be lying to herself if she pretended it wasn’t pleasure on her mind right now, but since Miss Luthor owns a gallery… It’s a technicality, but it’s one at which Kara is eager to grasp. “Well, I deliver whiskey to beautiful women in need.” That earns Kara a real smile, full lips turning up in a way that makes Kara certain those lips could sustain her. It’s something she’s like to try even as her stomach makes a rather quiet complaint at Kara’s priorities.

“Well, on behalf of beautiful women in need, I could use a refill.”

It’s rather good timing, and as the bartender returns with a bottle in each hand, Kara gestures toward the empty glass. “So, Miss Luthor, are you here looking for new exhibits for your gallery?”

“Always, and Querl Dox is a rising star in the world of art. His work is… cutting edge.”

“The future of art,” Kara says, smiling over at Lena. “That was the title of the piece on him in Catco Magazine. Did you read it?”

“I don’t follow Catco.”

“Oh, you should. Miss Grant is a very talented writer.”

Lena scoffs, making Kara think she disagrees, but her words prove otherwise. “Talented, perhaps, but have you met her?”

There’s something about Lena’s tone that tells Kara she already has the answer to her question even as she asks, “No, have you?”

“Unfortunately.” Lena takes a sip of her refilled drink, her smile returning as more of the amber liquid spills down her throat. “She and I have traveled in the same circles for many years. When I was a child, she called me Lana.”

“But your name’s Lena.” Kara’s stomach lurches, hoping she’s right. “Your name is Lena, right?”

“Not according to Miss Grant. She called me Lana right until I was accepted into MIT.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Power. She likes keeping people off balance. She wants to feel like the smartest person in the room.” Eyes twinkling, Lena asks, “Want to know what I said the first time she called me by my actual name?”

Kara nods.

“I said, ‘My name is Lana.’ Miss Grant was taken totally flat-footed. Even my mother chuckled, and from Lillian Luthor, that’s high praise indeed.”

“Wow, power move.” Kara takes a sip of the whiskey the bartender slides to her and has to work to control her cough as she taps a fist against her chest. She’s really more of a mixed drink, light on the alcohol and heavy on the juice, kind of girl, but when in Rome... “Smooth.”

“It’s not bad.” Lena sips her whiskey, her gaze scanning the party-goers much as Kara’s did before. Kara isn’t sure why. It’s unlikely she has the interest or knowledge to check out the security or pick out guests from staff. Her gaze is still sweeping the room as she asks, “So, why is the president of El Mayarah at a show opening? I didn’t take you for a patron of the arts.”

“Not really. I mean, I enjoy art. My foster parents ran a gallery until…” Jeremiah’s death had been senseless and unexpected. Though she’d only known him a year, it had dragged Kara back to her own loss. Once again, it was Alex who put Kara first even though Alex had just lost their father. “Anyway,” Kara pushes those memories down and thrusts herself back into the present, much more pleasant time, “it’s more of a professional interest for me, guarding it, I mean.”

“So you’re being here has nothing to do with the reason you showed up at my gallery?”

“Oh, that.” Kara takes a sip of her drink to buy herself a moment’s time before answering. Unfortunately, the second swallow doesn’t go down any easier than the first. She clears her throat, fully aware of Lena’s gaze on her. “No, nothing to do with that. That was just… You understand no one thinks your gallery is related to the thefts, right? We were there just offering our help.”

“Because you think we could be a target.”

“Your gallery’s server was chosen for a reason. Doesn’t that concern you?”

When Lena knocks her glass back and swallows the rest of her whiskey without more reaction than a smile, Kara’s eyes widen. She has a thing for strong women, not so much physically strong as she likes to think she has that covered but strong of will. Kara wants to partner with someone who can keep up with and challenge her, and the few minutes she’s known Miss Lena Luthor have promised all of that and more.

“It makes me curious,” Lena admits. “If I am being targeted, information is the best tool to protect me, the kind of information those investigating this case may have. Then I see you here tonight. I’d call that fortuitous timing.”

“Oh, hoping to get lucky with me?” Kara screams internally, desperately wishing to pull the words back in even as they escape her mouth. However, Lena’s lips quirk up in amusement, and there’s a twinkle in the woman’s eyes Kara hasn’t seen before now. It’s encouraging, or it would be if Kara wasn’t too busy being mortified. “Ugh, I meant… You know what? I’m going to grab some food from the buffet before I shove my other foot in my mouth too. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“Kara,” Lena says before Kara can take more than a step away, and the smile she’s giving Kara restores a glimmer of hope. “You were right.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Kara admits with a chuckle and is grateful when Lena laughs right along with her. “What was I right about?”

Those fingers reach out again, this time to squeeze the knot of Kara’s tie. “You are the charming sibling.”

Kara ducks her head and shakes it, but with confidence restored, she meets Lena’s gaze and smiles on even terms. “I think that’s more of an insult to Alex than a compliment to me, but I’ll take it. I bet you're the charming sibling too.”

Lena laughs, a full and throaty sound this time, combing her hair with those elegant fingertips. “I don’t know about that, but I do have the better hairline.”

“I bet you have the better everything.”

That clearly lands well, and Lena reaches out, fingers tracing the fabric of Kara’s lapel. When she speaks, her voice has dropped a full register. It’s sultry, seductive like the woman herself. “You’d win that bet.”

Kara has to hold herself back, still vaguely aware of her surroundings, from stepping in closer at what feels like an invitation.

“Kara.” Kara nearly jumps out of her skin when her sibling hisses her name from directly behind her. Apparently, her awareness was very vague. “We have an emergency. I need your help… stat.”

Kara holds up a finger to Lena, begging her indulgence while she deals with whatever this ‘emergency’ is, and at Lena’s nod, she turns to Alex. Kara tries to keep the smile on her lips, but she can hear an impatient tone in her own voice, the annoyance at being interrupted less than subtle. “An emergency? Really?”

Alex nods with enough enthusiasm that it softens Kara’s stance. She steps closer, sharing in her sibling’s obvious concern. Family always comes first.

“Is this like a medical emergency? Did something happen to Ruby?”

“No, nothing like that. There’s this guy talking to Sam and—”

“Christ, Alex this again?” Considering the fact that Sam is planning to take time away from the company over this exact issue, Kara isn’t sure she should be surprised, but she is. Alex has always been the rational one, the realist to Kara’s dreamer. Perhaps Alex has just pushed her dreams away for too long. “Have you learned nothing? Just back off.”

“No, this is different. That Edge guy—”

“Morgan Edge?” The siblings both turn at Lena’s voice. She’s still several feet away, and she smiles awkwardly under the combined weight of their gazes. “I apologize. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but… voices carry. Are you talking about Morgan Edge, Mx. Danvers?”

Alex’s eyes narrow, and it’s clear they’re already sizing Lena up. “Yeah. Why, do you know him?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Lena says, stepping a bit closer to properly join in their conversation. “I’d say he was a disreputable, low-life scumbag, but that would be an unkindness to disreputable, low-life scumbags.”

“Kara, see, see.” Alex grabs Kara’s arm, shaking their sibling even as they gesture toward Lena. If your enemy’s enemy is your friend, then your enemy’s enemy, who happens to be a random hot chick at a bar, is definitely your friend. It’s part of the gay agenda. Look it up. “See, this guy is trouble. Your friend knows. You should listen to… uh…”

“Lena Luthor of Luthor Fine Arts. You and your sister paid a visit to my gallery the other day and made quite the impression.”

“Oh, awkward,” Alex says, and the ‘smile’ they flash is proof of that sentiment. “Look. Miss Luthor, I’m sorry if we upset your director, but we weren’t accusing you of anything. We were just—”

“Alex, we’re good,” Kara says before asking Lena, “We’re good, right?”

“We’re excellent,” Lena assures them. “Jessica’s days are far too regimented. She needed someone to shake her up, so thank you for that. Now, about Morgan Edge, he isn’t trying to entice your friend to purchase art from him, is he?”

“Why? Would that be a problem?”

“Well…” Lena looks around before leaning in slightly, the motion drawing the siblings to mimic her action. “I was bidding on a picture in a show where Mr. Edge had a piece for sale. It wasn’t the piece I was after, but his happened to be on display when my authenticator went to verify mine. My authenticator noticed something with Edge’s piece, something he felt he needed to bring to the attention of the auction house.”

“What did he notice?” Kara asks.

“It was a 14th-century piece, and as I’m sure you know, the price of ultramarine paint rivaled the cost of gold then. It was used sparingly and for few pieces, usually commissions by the church. The thing my authenticator noticed was that the blue wasn’t the top layer of paint. It was so expensive at the time that it was always the last layer. No one painted over it.”

“So it was a forgery.” Alex’s jaw tightens as their gaze slips over to where Sam and the man in the question chat. “Did he know?”

“Do you want my opinion or what I can prove?” Lena asks.

Alex’s response, as they meet Lena’s gaze, is succinct. “Yes.”

Lena launches back into her story without hesitation. “The auction’s authenticator had appraised the piece. He didn’t notice the discrepancy, which is ridiculous. The man was an accredited and well-respected authenticator.”

“Was?” Alex asks.

“Sadly, yes. The auction house brought in a second authenticator after hearing from mine, and she verified my authenticator’s findings. The first man’s reputation was called into question, and museums and auction houses all over were forced to have work he did redone.” Arms crossed, Lena glares across at Morgan who is even now laughing, the poster boy for white male privilege on full display. “The man claimed it was an honest error, but I think Morgan Edge got to him, threatened him in some way. Edge feigned innocence and acted as if he was the victim of a scam, but I have a finely attuned sense of BS, and Morgan Edge stinks.”

“You hear that?” Alex had their mind made up before walking over to Kara, so this verification is just justification for (jealousy) distrust. They grab Kara’s arm again, shaking her as if she wasn’t standing there the whole time. “That guy is a con artist and a bullshitter.”

“Shhh.” Kara glances around. One or two people have looked in the trio’s direction, but they quickly return to their discussions. “Keep your voice down. You’re going to get us kicked out of here before I even get any appetizers.”

“And you need to prioritize. We need to get Edge away from Sam for her safety.”

“Oh, this is about Sam’s safety, huh?” Kara sees sincerity in Alex’s face, and the nod is eager, but good intentions don’t always lead to good endings. Still, with a wistful look over at the buffet table, she nods back at Alex. “Fine, we can go protect Sam. Lena, I’d love to finish this conversation later, if you’ll still be around.”

“Perhaps I could join you both? If you’re looking for someone to provide a note of warning about Morgan Edge, it should be by someone who knows him.”

Kara’s ready to agree immediately if only to keep Lena close and talking, but Alex is the one who needs to be sold on the idea. To Kara’s surprise, it’s an easy sale.

“That sounds great,” Alex says without reservation and heads back across the room, leaving Kara and Lena to follow and strain to hear Alex’s next words. “Anyone who can help me convince Sam to stay away from this creep is welcome.”

Morgan Edge is everything that is wrong with heteronormativity. The walking embodiment of cis-gendered, straight, white, male privilege, he doesn’t hold a conversation with someone; he holds court. His voice raises, and he pitches it to project, as he says something snarky no doubt meant to be charming. When the trio approaches, he glances at and immediately dismisses Alex. He gives Kara a bit more than a cursory examination with his gaze, but once it slides from her face down to the way she’s dressed, it’s clear she’s also been moved to the reject pile. His smile falters when his gaze rests on Lena, and he pulls himself up a little bit straighter in some kind of compensation. Kara sees him in that moment, a predator that’s no longer dealing with prey and finds herself even more attracted to Lena.

“Lena Luthor,” he says, not even acknowledging the siblings’ presence, “I’d heard you were in town, but I didn’t expect to have the _pleasure_ so quickly.” The word pleasure is pushed between gritted teeth as a caricature of a smile twists on his face.

“Yes, well, the pleasure is all yours, Mr. Edge,” Lena replies with a raised brow. He opens his mouth to reply, but she steps by him, hand outstretched and a smile on her face as she, in turn, dismisses him and turns her attention to Sam. “You must be Miss Arias. I’m Lena Luthor from Luthor Fine Arts. Your associates here have been going on and on about you.”

Sam’s gaze slides over to Alex, who has given up on glaring at Edge, so they can smile weakly at Sam. Though she doesn’t look convinced, Sam still smiles brightly as she grasps Lena’s hand. “Miss Luthor, it’s a pleasure. I’ve been to your gallery. You had a showing of Baldvin Ringsted’s work.”

“The Icelandic artist, yes. I was in Milan on business during that show, but my director is amazing, a gift, honestly. We do better when I find art and artists and leave her to run the show.”

Edge clears his throat as he steps closer to Sam, too close by the way Alex tenses, only staying put when their sister’s hand rests on their shoulder. His smile is smarmy, self-aggrandized and swimming in ego, as he leans into Sam’s personal space. “On the other hand, I’m very involved with all of my shows, picking the artists and attending openings. I wouldn’t leave those sorts of details to a subservient.”

“A subservient?” Lena scoffs, throwing in an eye roll for good measure. “How positively medieval. Anyway, some of us hire trustworthy staff, and most people are trustworthy when you treat them fairly and with respect.” She turns away from Edge again, and his jaw tightens, tendons standing out with obvious ire. Kara can hear Alex mutter something unfavorable, about Mr. Edge, even as Lena continues speaking. “Mr. Ringsted’s art is astounding, but his use of lines and angles intersecting with his landscapes are dizzying. It’s an amazing 3D effect, but I get a little bit motion sick looking at them.”

“So do I,” Sam chuckles and leans in a bit closer to Lena, as she speaks in a stage whisper. “I thought it wasn’t fashionable to say that at the show, so I just found other things to explore so my stomach didn’t get the better of me.”

“Art so good it makes you ill?” Lena quirks a brow. “I’ve never seen that review.”

“Your new friend seems great. I like her,” Alex whispers from their vantage point near Kara, just outside of the conversation but close enough to enjoy the view. “I’m glad you brought her over. I think Mr. Edge is going to have a stroke.”

“Yeah.” Kara rolls around the word in her mouth while an idea rolls around in her mind. “I think I’m going to marry her.” Kara can be a bit… spontaneous. It’s more like since she accepted she’s allowed to feel happy again, she’s gone all in. Life is short, as she well knows, so why not enjoy it?

“How long have you known her?” And that’s a loaded question the likes of which Kara has heard before. A lot of judgment can be stuffed into a half dozen words.

“I don’t know.” Kara feels her lips twitch as she watches Lena both skillfully annoy and further infuriate Mr. Edge. “What time is it?”

Kara doesn’t look when her sibling sighs heavily. She’s had enough ‘you love too well not too wisely’ lectures to last a lifetime. However, all Alex says is, “That does sound like you,” Kara can feel her lips twitching upward. Maybe she’s finally worn Alex down. “Maybe know this one a month before you move in with her?”

“But U-Hauls are so cheap, Alex, and—”

An alarm blares, echoing across the area and stopping all conversation in the gallery dead.

“Is that the fire alarm?” someone asks.

“No.” Kara points toward an exit, toward the exit sign with lights next to it, and they’re not flashing. “That’s a security alarm. Someone tripped the security.”

“Where, which section?” Alex asks.

“I don’t… It wouldn’t be in this room. Nothing in here is alarmed, and they have security on the doors. It would be,” Kara spins 360 degrees, but surrounding her are walls of bodies, people now talking loudly - to be heard over the alarm - and moving about in a haphazard fashion. There are several doors and hallways leading to exhibit areas, and there’s an entire second floor. With the echoing through the open space, the alarm could be coming from anywhere, “anywhere. I have no idea, Alex.”

“Come with me.” Lena grabs Kara’s hand, tugging the other woman to a small table nearby, and Kara goes easily. When Lena pulls out a chair and tries to climb on, Kara is confused but readily gives her a hand up and steadies her and the chair. “Thank you. Now, where is,” It’s Lena’s turn to survey the room but from a better vantage point. It only takes a few seconds before she’s pointing, “there,” toward one of the stairways.

With ease, Kara lifts Lena off the chair and places her carefully on the ground. Their bodies are pressed close, and they share a smile and a private moment. It would be the perfect start to something more if not for the crowd surrounding them and the alarms blaring.

“What did you see?” Kara asks when she regretfully steps away.

“Andrea Rojas, she’s the director. I saw her heading down from upstairs and then off to our left. If Anyone knows what’s happening—”

“The gallery’s director would,” Kara finishes, and she allows herself to be tugged toward the stairs. “God, you’re smart.”

Lena smirks up at Kara even as they cut through the press of the crowd. “Did you think I was just a pretty face?”

“No. I think you have a pretty everything.”

“Kara, wait up!” Alex calls out and hurries to catch up to their sibling before Lena can respond. “Where are we going?”

“Lena saw the director go up these stairs,”

“Good thinking,” Alex replies.

“Well, she’s not just a pretty face, you know,” Kara says, but she smiles down at Lena who chuckles. It’s a hectic situation, but Kara is holding the hand of a beautiful woman who smiles at her usual nonsense. Under her ‘nothing ventured nothing gained’ motto, she asks, “Hey, would you like to go out with me?”

“You’re asking me now?” When Kara just nods, Lena’s smile returns. “I think we need to work on your timing, Miss Danvers, but I’m game. I’ll give you my number.” They cut through the last of the crowd and come out just feet from the staircase. “We’ll set something up.”

“What about now?”

That seems to be enough to stop Lena in her tracks. Forward motion grinds to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, and Kara struggles not to continue forward when her sibling runs into her from behind.

“What’s with the traffic jam?” Alex asks.

Lena shakes her head, but the smile that had fallen off her face is returning with vigor and it’s framed by a pair of double dimples. “You’re incorrigible.”

Kara takes a half step closer, oddly encouraged by the response. “Is that a yes?”

“Why not?” Lena asks, and then she’s off again, cutting through the pressed crowd at a rate that belies the heels she’s wearing.

“Awesome.” Kara keeps up with Lena easily, slowing so she doesn’t outpace the other woman. When they reach a hallway and break free of the partygoers, she says something that stops Lena again. “I want to tell our kids that our first date was at a crime scene.” And when Lena keeps smiling, keeps holding her hand, Kara wants to make that line a reality.

“Ahem.” Hands on hips, Alex stands two steps back, a less than amused expression on their face. Behind them and to either side are Sam, and surprisingly, Morgan Edge. They seem to have gathered a crowd. “Maybe you two could get a room somewhere when this is all done where I don’t have to hear any of this. Right now, which way do we go?”

Kara turns right, but at Lena’s, “This way,” and a tug of her hand, she’s off to the left.

There’s a security guard heading down the hallway in front of them, and they follow. It’s a short path around one corner to where people gather. However, one guard steps forward and blocks their way.

“Sorry, folks, personnel only. Please return to the party.”

Lena, however, steps to the side and calls out, “Andrea!” When the woman in question looks back, Lena waves which garners her a nod and a signal to the guard. “They’re with me,” she says as she skirts him, never letting go of Kara’s hand, and the group all continue forward.

“Lena.” The soft smile that Andrea offers Lena slides away as she looks over to Lena and then their joined hands. Kara has seen jealousy before, sometimes in the mirror, and she knows it well. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got a situation here. Maybe we could talk,” her gaze briefly flicks over to Kara, “later.”

“Later I hope to be finishing my date which your alarms,” they cut off as if on cue, “thank God, so rudely interrupted.”

“Date,” Andrea repeats, her jaw clenched as if to try and keep the word inside. “I thought you said you were single.”

“Well, we’re not exclusive… yet.” When Lena winks up at her, Kara smiles back. She has no idea what she walked in on, perhaps a not so distant ex, but she’s not ready to back down. “Anyway, my date happens to be a security expert, and we’ve brought an art recovery agent and an authenticator with us, and also… him.” She thumbs back at Morgan Edge. “Perhaps you could use the help?”

“It’s probably just a security glitch,” Andrea says, but it’s not believable. Her voice is shaky, and it cracks slightly. “Anyway, we have a lot of people already so—”

“Okay, okay, I know when I’m not wanted.” Lena pulls free of Kara’s grip, and she instantly misses the contact. “I’ll be downstairs by the bar. Mr. Edge, would you care to join me or…” Lena’s gaze flicks over toward Sam.

“Maybe next time,” he says with utter insincerity.

“Suit yourself. Kara, don’t take too long, darling. I want to see what else you have planned for our date.”

Kara watches Lena’s hips swing, watches the way the coppery fabric lays tight across her ass as Lena strolls away. It's hypnotic and the reason why Kara doesn’t realize someone is speaking until Lena is out of view. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said I appreciate the help but—”

“Miss Rojas, we’re already here and you know my - our - reputation. Let us just take a look. If it’s a security glitch, maybe I can help with that. If it isn’t...” She gestures back at Alex. “Just let us help, okay? How often do you have the right people for the job just hanging around at your party?”

“Fine.” Andrea relents and leads them to the doorway where a security guard waits. “What do we know so far? Is anything missing?”

“We’re still checking the items against the catalog, but it’s what we found that shouldn’t be in there that’s interesting,” he replies.

Andrea follows the guard into the room, and more than a little intrigued, Kara follows with the others in tow. She’s only a few feet in when something crunches underfoot, and she pulls her foot away to show a small, crushed, bit of green and tan. “What is that?”

Rising with a small lump in her hand, Alex holds it out for the others to see. “Is this pet food?”

That question is answered when another guard comes into view from inside the room, this one holding a cat. It’s a chubby orange thing, but even stranger than a cat in the art gallery is what it’s wearing. It has some sort of vest on, all black with three loops running along the cat’s back.

“What the hell is going on?” Edge asks.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Andrea signals the guard closer. “Why do you have a cat?”

“There’s probably a dozen of them running around in here. We tried to herd them all but,” the cat in his arms is purring loudly, and it rubs its head against his short beard, eliciting a smile and a scritch from the guard, “it’s harder than you’d think.”

“How did they get in here?” Andrea asks. “These doors were locked.”

“Do you have windows in here?” Alex asks as they step around Andrea.

“They don’t open,” Andrea says, and Alex stops. “They’re alarmed, but they don’t open. No window alarm went off. It was the motion sensors.”

“How about vents?” Kara asks.

“Well, yes, but they’re small so…” She looks at the cat, and her brows crease as concern crosses her face.

“Let’s go.” Alex taps Kara, and they head off in either direction in the room. They’ve each gone around the bend in the L-shaped room, and wow, that’s a lot of cats, when Alex calls out, “Found it!”

Indeed they have. There’s one open vent on the floor, and laying on her stomach and shining the light from her flashlight inside, Kara can see back to a ninety-degree curve heading straight up.

Kara looks up from the floor and asks Andrea, “Where does this go?”

“Well, the roof but… I don’t understand. Why would someone put cats in here and set off the alarm? How is setting off the alarm going to help them steal anything? Is this just a prank?”

“No.” Kara dusts off her hands and then her suit as she stands up. “Do you have a security panel, or do you run security from a computer system?”

“They updated to a computer system when they installed the new wing. There were too many zones for a panel. This is the only room that triggered though so—”

“Miss Rojas, it’s not a matter of if you’ve been robbed, it’s a question of where you’ve been robbed,” Kara says and watches the woman’s expression change from disbelief to horror when Alex nods in agreement. “All of this, it’s a distraction. Show me your security computer.”

The fight seems to have left Andrea, and she leads Kara and the others to an elevator, which she has to access with her badge, and through that to a room in the basement. It’s empty right now but for a single guard, and he doesn’t hesitate to turn the system over to Andrea.

“Here,” she types quickly, pulling up the logs of alarms. “This is the only one that went off, and the others are all in the green. They’re active and untriggered.”

“Do you have a log that shows when rooms have been accessed?” Alex asks.

“Of course. We’re not amateurs.” A few more keystrokes bring up a completely different log. “As you can see, the main room is open for the party, and none of the other rooms… hold on,”

“What’s wrong?” Kara asks.

“This room, someone was in it less than ten minutes ago. It looks like they shut down security in there for four minutes and thirty-seven seconds before reactivating it.” She clicks on that record, bringing up the ID of the person who accessed the room, and their name is splayed across the screen: Andrea Rojas. After several seconds of open-mouthed silence, Andrea sputters, “But… no. This is impossible. I was with all of you.”

That’s undoubtedly true, but it’s also true that the system says otherwise. Someone can’t be in two places at once, however… “Does anyone else have access to your badge?” Alex asks.

“This badge?” Andrea holds it up. “No, I live alone, and it’s either on me or in my purse. It never goes far.”

“This computer says it went to room 1D while you were checking on the false alarm.” Even as Andrea shakes her head, Alex says, “We need to look in that room.”

Andrea’s defeat is clear as they all head back to the elevator and up to the first floor. Room 1D is as far from the cat room, as Kara has taken to calling it, as it can be. It’s further evidence of a distraction pulling security to one side of the gallery while something unseemly goes on elsewhere. The door is locked and the alarms are on when they get there, but with a slide of Andrea’s badge, they gain access.

This room houses the Andrew Phillips exhibition, and by the few covers that drape over some of the cases, it’s clear that it’s not yet ready for public viewing. Rather cautiously, the group spreads out looking for anything amiss. Given that they, except for Andrea, don’t know what should be in here, it seems like a mostly symbolic gesture. However, Andrea isn’t the one to find something out of place.

“So as an authenticator, not that you need my professional opinion here, but these statues are not museum quality,” Sam says.

The group gathers around, expressions running from horror, through confusion, and to amusement going around. The sign only says, “African figures on loan from the Musée du quai Branly,” and the figures themselves… Well, the sign isn’t entirely wrong. There are six figures lined up, each clipped to a plastic stand to keep them upright and action-ready. Shuri, Okoye, N’Jobu, Killmonger, Nakia, and Black Panther himself, a set of action figures from the Black Panther movie, stand at the ready, but the actual art is nowhere to be seen.

“It’s her,” Kara breathes, unable to keep the delight from her voice. She knows she’s grinning stupidly, but she can barely contain her excitement right now. The thief has struck again and this time right under Kara’s nose. It should be upsetting, but somehow, it just makes her feel closer to their mysterious burglar like they breathed the same air.

Kara is so caught up in the wonder of it all that she doesn’t notice the other addition to the set until Sam asks, “What’s that?” The object in question is an ivory business card. It lays flat so the back is obscured, but on the front is printed a pair of lips.

“Was anything like this at any of her prior theft locations?” Kara asks, having to physically hold herself back from touching the card (and therefore evidence) that the thief left behind.

“What prior thefts?” Andrea asks.

“No one mentioned anything like that, and if it was at the Asian Museum, the police took it away before we got there.” Sam shrugs. “Unless it’s a piece of evidence they’re holding back from the public, I’d say no, and since we’re the first ones to connect the cases, I find that unlikely.”

“Cases? Multiple thefts?” Andrea asks.

“Hey, I found a vent that wasn’t attached to the wall. It was just leaning there,” Alex says as they join the others. Their eyes widen as they take in the action figures. “Hey, she left a calling card this time.”

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Andrea erupts. “Do you know who did this?”

“Um… yes and no,” Kara admits. “It’s kind of a long story if you want to hear it.”

“Miss Rojas?” A security guard stands at the doorway looking even more uncomfortable than Kara feels. “The police are here. Do we need them or…?”

“Fuck.” Andrea slumps, pinches the bridge of her nose, and mumbles, “Fuck my life.” Then she heads to the door, her back straight and determination in her step. “I’ll talk to the police. Get me two guards down here. No one goes in or out of here without my permission. We have a situation.”

“They got hit.” Edge chuckles, and Kara watches her sibling tense in reaction.

“Alex,” she shakes her head when Alex makes eye contact, “don’t.”

It’s probably a 50/50 chance between Alex going after Edge or backing down. Normally, pacifism isn’t Alex’s strength, but given the surroundings and the company (meaning Sam), discretion wins out.

“Don't you need to catch up with your girlfriend?” Alex asks.

“You mean catch the thief?” Alex stares at Kara for several long seconds, and she’s sure she’s said something dumb, but she doesn’t know what.

Alex is all too happy to clarify. “No, I mean Lena, your date.”

“Oh, crap. She’s waiting for me.” Kara rushes past the guard stationed at the door without a word, down the hallway, and then down the stairs. The crowd is much lighter, about half the people have left, and Kara does a quick scan before she heads to the bar. It’s empty, no one there but the bartender, and she turns, looking across the room again. There’s no glimpse of a coppery sheath, and that melodic laugh doesn’t carry above the clamor made by the remaining partygoers. Lena is gone without so much as a goodbye,

“Kara Danvers?” When the bartender says her name, Kara’s head snaps around to him. He’s holding up a bar napkin, one of those small squares they rest a drink on. Curious, she approaches. “Are you Kara Danvers?”

“I am.” She eyes the napkin as he holds it out to her. “What’s this?”

“I didn’t look. Some lady left it for you. She told me your name, described you, and asked me to give you this. Nice suit.”

Kara practically grabs it from his hand with a, “Yeah, thanks.” The napkin has a lipstick stain on the front, a rather purposeful lipstick stain, and Kara would recognize that scarlet color anywhere. It was most recently on lips she very much wants to press her lips against. There seems to be a discoloration showing through the thin layers, and Kara flips the napkin open to read a short note.

_Sorry, something came up. Call me._

_619-555-0197_

  * _L._



“Yes.” Kara keeps her voice down and her fist pump low for the sake of appearances. Even with the theft, tonight is definitely looking up.

“Got something good there?” 

Kara yelps and pulls the napkin closer, but she relaxes when she sees the person who spoke to her. “Hey, Nia. This is just… It’s private.”

“Sure it is. Make sure you call her.” And Nia smiles in that all too knowledgeable and familiar way. “Anyway, I’m heading out. The party is breaking up because of… reasons. Querl has agreed to drive me home.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. You kids have fun.”

“Oh, we will.” She throws a wink over her shoulder as she turns to leave, leaving little to the imagination about the general theme of the rest of her night’s activities.

Kara chuckles, wishing her evening was ending in the same fashion but hopeful given the napkin she still clutches in her hand. However, before Nia has gone far, a thought occurs to Kara, and she hurries after the other woman. “Nia, wait up!” It’s only a few steps between them in this now emptier room. “Hey, so Alex doesn’t kill me for letting you go without asking, you were supposed to give us a list of names.”

“You’re right.” She pulls a slip of paper out of her purse and slides it into the chest pocket of Kara’s blazer. “Happy hunting.”

Kara orders herself a soda and pulls the piece of paper out of her pocket. Unfolding it shows nothing, and flipping it over reveals an equally blank side. Kara holds it up to the light, hoping something will be clearer, but it’s blank, completely blank. “What the…” She has to rush, excusing herself and sliding between the thankfully now emptier room, to make it outside to where Querl and Nia wait for the attendant to bring the car around. “Nia! Hey, what’s up with this?”

As Kara waves the paper around in an aggressive fashion, Nia just grins. “It’s a piece of paper.”

“No kidding. You promised me a list of names. I held up my part of the bargain. You hold up yours.”

Nia pats Kara’s lapel, the smile never leaving her face as she says, “No, dear, I promised you the name of everyone to whom the thief had ever sold a piece of stolen art. I held up my part of the bargain.”

“But… But this is blank. There’s no one on this list.”

“True.” The car arrives, and Nia walks away, but as Querl holds the door open for her, she looks back at Kara and says, “You have a clue now, Kara. Let’s see what you can do with it.”

Kara watches the car streak away. She can feel the tight creases in her face and the tension in her jaw. Why does everything have to be complicated? “Crap. Alex is gonna kill me.”


	8. Closer Than You Think

It’s standard for Alex to rise before Kara, but on a weekend, she will usually find her sibling drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper. They’ll chat for a bit, maybe grab brunch or take in a movie. More than just family, Kara and Alex are best friends. However, the apartment is quiet this morning, and there’s no sign of Alex’s coffee cup in the dishwasher. Kara knows they came home last night, but the real questions are when did they get up, and where are they now?

Dressed for the day in her usual business wear, Kara heads down the hall leading from the apartment to the office. She’s unsurprised at a light sneaking out from under the office door and even less so at her sibling working away inside. However, her sibling’s appearance is a bit of a shock.

“Have you been here all night?”

When Alex turns, Kara is fairly certain she already has the answer to her question. Her normally pristine sibling is wearing a rumpled dress shirt, their tie discarded… somewhere, and slacks that have long since lost their pressed crease. Their hair is messy and sticking out on one side, likely where Alex has been tugging at it. It’s a familiar part of their thought process, but product and regular grooming normally prevent this level of muss. Kara hasn’t seen Alex this much of a mess since Jeremiah’s death. To say it's concerning would be an understatement.

“Alex, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Alex gestures back at the corkboard behind them, “I’ve been working.”

“Working?” Kara’s gaze moves from the board, which is covered with easily twice as many pictures and notes as it had been yesterday, over to the couch they rarely use where Alex’s jacket and tie are strewn. Their dress shoes sit on the floor near its base, one of them laying on its side. Though hardly Kara’s organized chaos, it’s a level of disorder that Alex normally doesn’t allow themself. “This isn’t working. Did you sleep here?”

“No, I didn’t sleep.”

And Kara knows she really should have seen that coming. “Jesus, Alex—”

“I think I’m getting closer to the thief,” Alex says, their back again turned to their sister and their attention on the collection of pictures and notes. “I put up the information you got from Nia, or lack of information, and added what we learned from the lady who lost the painting lawsuit. I created a profile for our thief.” Alex’s smile when they turn verges on maniacal. “They’re a collector.”

“A collector,” Kara repeats, but her gaze is trained on Alex’s glassy-eyed stare and the rings underneath them.

“Yup.” Alex doesn’t even seem to notice the concern in Kara’s voice. They just turn back to the board and begin to point to things pinned there as they say, “They probably travel for work, but they’re independently wealthy. These thefts are about justice, not money, or at least, they originally were about seeking justice. The items exchanged for the stolen art, the little clues she’s leaving us, she’s attention-seeking. It’s probably something she hasn’t gotten in her personal or professional life, but I’m guessing personal.”

“This is about Sam, isn’t it?”

“What, no?” Alex turns to meet Kara’s gaze, and that concerning intensity is staring Kara in the face again. “This is about the thief. She’s highly organized, highly intelligent, and well educated. It could be informal education, but I’m guessing she has multiple degrees.”

“Alex, stop, just stop.” Kara takes Alex’s fidgeting hands in hers, thumbs moving soothingly across the back of her sibling’s knuckles. It’s a motion she learned long ago, learned when Alex held her hand and did the same. It connected Kara when she felt completely alone in the world, and she hopes it can ground Alex in the same way. “What happened with Sam?”

Even as Alex shakes their head, they say, “She left with Edge last night.”

“Left with him?”

“He drove her home.”

Kara can’t contain the hiss that escapes at the implication, a quick intake of breath between gritted teeth. “Are you saying they… went home together?”

“What, no? It’s not like that.” Alex pulls their hands out of Kara’s grip to tug at their hair. Kara watches carefully, sees the anxiety even that suggestion has caused as her sibling makes one of what likely has been many circuits around their desk. She can hear Alex’s voice saying, ‘We’re just friends’ running on repeat in her mind. Kara knows that hasn’t been true for a while, but seeing this reaction emphasizes that truth. “She had to get home to Ruby. Anyway, she wouldn’t, not with Edge… right?”

The desperate plea in that last, rising word pulls at Kara’s heartstrings. “Of course, not. She barely knows him. Anyway,” Kara smiles gently, trying to reach out with her words because Alex is far too jittery to stand still, “I happen to know she has a thing for redheads.”

“Then why would she work for Edge?” If anything, this is more desperate, pleading for an explanation.

“A steady income, health benefits, a 401k.” Kara gently explains, but the next words leave her lips even before she knows she’s talking out loud. “Maybe it’s just that he isn’t in love with her but too scared to do something about it.”

And when Alex gasps, Kara knows she’s right. This thing between Alex and Sam, it isn’t just attraction. This isn’t just catching feelings or a crush. Alex is in love with Sam, and Kara is fairly certain Sam loves them back. Right now, however, the emotional distance between the two is longer and broader than the physical distance. How they close that gap is anyone’s guess.

“Alex, look I’m—”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t make me feel worse than I already do… if that’s possible.” And they’re not denying anything, and that’s a step in the right direction.

“I was just going to say if you wanted to talk or needed a shoulder, I’m here for you.”

And Alex relaxes, shoulders slumping as some of the tension slips away. “Thank you.”

“Always. Now, do you want to talk about Sam?” Kara probes gently and waits.

“Not really. I just… I just want to catch this guy, girl, and clear this assignment. Once this is all settled I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll do something.”

Kara is tempted to argue, to encourage Alex to talk to her and talk to Sam, but experience tells her that the harder she pushes Alex, the harder Alex will push back. Whatever the next step is, Alex needs to get there on their own.

“How can I help?” Kara says, and the look of relief on Alex’s face shows this is everything she needs right now. “Show me your murder board.”

Alex’s sputtered reaction shows they’re not too lost in their misery for Danvers siblings shenanigans. “It’s not a murder board. Don’t call it that. It’s my investigation board.”

“Notes, pictures, maps, all you're missing is twine leading from point A to point B. Do you want some twine? I bet I could get you some twine to string together your evidence.”

“Are you going to take this seriously?”

Kara’s lips pull back, exposing a smile Alex spent a long time helping her relearn. “Past actions say no, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

“This is my serious face.” It isn’t. Her lips still twitch, and she knows her eyes show the amusement lying close to the surface. Kara exceeds at many things, but playing poker isn’t among them. “Show me what you have.”

Still, Alex doesn’t chastise, just jumps back into their earlier explanation. “Okay, so take a look at this. This is the timeline of thefts starting with the first one six years ago. That’s the painting that was in a museum here in California. Three years ago there was a jeweled crown stolen in Iran that was replaced by a bride-to-be tiara. Two years ago there was the diamond stolen in Russia. It had been in the head of a scepter, and it was replaced by a plastic Disney princess scepter. Last year a painting, ‘Seated Man With a Cane’, was stolen from the Helly Nahmad Gallery in Metropolis, and a framed photo of Charlie Chaplin was left in its stead. Do you see what I see?”

Kara nods, actually looking at the evidence on the board for the first time. “Now we’ve had two thefts in a week in California. So they’re accelerating, but why the two-year gap?”

“No clue. Either there are other thefts out there that we haven’t seen yet, or the thief was otherwise occupied then.”

“What does that mean, otherwise occupied?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she had a steady boyfriend—”

“Girlfriend,” Kara adds quickly, still unwilling to give up on certain romantic notions.

“Whichever. Maybe she was in a relationship and couldn’t get away for her thefts.”

“So what you’re saying is she’s single.”

Alex doesn’t rise to the bait, just sighs and turns back to the board, tapping on several sets of dates they have posted there. “I have timelines and the travel dates mapped out. Until I know otherwise, I’m going to assume we’re dealing with a local. When Winn gets his ass to work, I’m going to have him track all the flights from this area around those dates that went to or connected with flights that went to the other thefts.”

“There are a lot of airports around here, and they could have flown anytime that month. That’s a lot of work for Winn on one of your hunches.”

“Educated guess and I’m keeping Winn employed so his ass stays out of jail. He’ll do it without complaint once he finally gets his ass here. Where is he?”

“Alex, it’s Saturday.”

And Alex nods and slumps, relaxing against the edge of their desk. “Right, I knew that.”

“Sure you did.” They both know it’s not true. “Okay, what do you need from me? How can I—”

When the song “Green-eyed Girl” by Ted Hawkins starts to play, Kara struggles to pull her phone from her pocket. It’s several awkward moments of Alex looking on, far too amused, while Kara fumbles before pulling it free with an “Ah, ha!” She can feel the pull at her cheeks as a grin spreads across her face, but she doesn’t try to hide it, and the smile is reflected in her voice as she says, “Hi, Lena, hi. You called.”

The chuckle that comes across the line absolutely does not make Kara sigh and Alex roll their eyes.

_“I did. Thank you for texting me your number. Is this a bad time?”_

“A bad time? Um…” Alex has told her that her pouting and puppy dog eyes are an unfair advantage, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It’s unsurprising when Alex merely waves Kara away. “No, it’s a good time. I’m just at work. What’s up?”

_“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m simply awful at remembering 9-5 schedules. Wait, what day is it?”_

“It’s Saturday,” Kara chuckles. “You’re good. My sibling and I just have this big case, and we're going over some evidence. What’s up?”

_“Oh, I was going to invite you for coffee but perhaps another time.”_

Kara hurries to reply, “Now is good,” purposefully not looking at Alex again. “I was just going to run out and do an errand anyway. I could meet you before or after.”

_“If you’re sure it’s really not an inconvenience.”_

“Nope, work is quiet.” The death glare from Alex says otherwise, but Kara forges forward. “So where do you want to meet?”

_“There’s this little cafe called Noonan’s about which I’ve heard good things. I can text you the address.”_

“Noonan’s? That’s like my second home. It’s just a block from my work.”

_“Well, that’s convenient. See you there in… five minutes?”_

“Sure, see you in five. Bye.” Kara fist pumps as she disconnects. Alex’s steady and unhappy stare proves it may be a premature celebration. “That was Lena.”

“I heard.”

“She wants me to go grab a coffee with her at Noonan’s.”

“Yeah, I heard that too.”

“Alex, can I—”

“Just go, Kara. Your mind isn’t going to be on work, is it?”

“She’s sooooo pretty, Alex.”

Alex’s sigh and eye roll combo is in peak form today. “Just don’t stay out all day. You do have a job to do.”

“But it’s Saturday.” Before Alex can give her one of their famous ‘crime doesn’t take the weekend off’ speeches, Kara says, “Yeah, yeah. If you haven’t solved this by the time I get back, I’ll get right on that.”

“You better. Oh, and, Kara—”

“I know. I know. Bring you back a cinnamon roll and a large coffee. What am I, an amateur?”

It’s a quick walk to Noonan’s, so it’s unsurprising when Kara arrives first. She picks a table, one near the window where she can enjoy the sun and watch people go about their day, and claims it with her suit jacket. Kara peruses the treats at the counter and smiles back when one of the employee’s recognizes her but waves them off her usual order. As good as the pastries look, she’s looking forward to something else more.

Her wait is short and all she can hope for. Lena's dress from last night has been replaced by a burgundy suit, feminine and flattering to the wearer. Her black shirt comes to a fabric choker around her neck, but under that is a see-through, plunging V that ends well below her breasts. The rest of the shirt is the same shiny black, perhaps silk, but Kara honestly isn't looking. Her attention is split between an ample rise of breasts and eyes that glimmer like emeralds in the sun.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long. I had to park on a side street.”

And Kara almost misses the fact that Lena’s talking to her. The voice she hears, light and melodic with the occasional hint of an accent she can’t pin down, but the words seem to be coming from far away. She manages to blink out of her stupor and fix her gaze steadily upon Lena’s, and away from that plunging neckline and all that lies behind it, and string enough words together to make a coherent thought. “Huh?” Well, semi-coherent. “Oh, no. I was a little early. You’re right on time.”

“You’re too sweet.” And when Lena smiles at her, Kara is certain she wants to keep inspiring that reaction. “So coffee? You said you practically live here. What’s good?”

“Everything from where I’m standing.” That smile blooms in return, and Kara slides that reaction into a part of her mind saved for puppies, potstickers, and everything else good in the world. “The cinnamon roll is amazing, but they make everything fresh on site. Whatever you get, you won’t be disappointed.”

“Well, then, I look forward to having my needs met and my expectations exceeded.” And that’s laced with enough implication that Kara nearly invites Lena back to her place to put exceeding expectations to the test, but Lena turns away, leaves that thread to be pulled and followed up on at a later time, and orders. “May I have a black coffee and a plain croissant, and Miss Danvers will have…?”

“The usual,” she says, flashing a quick smile at the woman taking their order before all of her attention is on Lena again, on that smile that’s so beautiful and familiar. “So this is going to sound like a line, but haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

“Yes, at the gallery last night before someone so rudely robbed the place and interrupted our evening. Don't you remember?”

“Well duh, yeah. It’s just… I don’t know. You seem familiar, but maybe it’s just my imagination."

“Maybe I just have one of those faces.”

“Pfft, please. You have the face that makes all other faces realize they don’t deserve to be called faces.” It’s hardly Kara’s best line, but it’s met with amusement. “Let’s go sit. I grabbed us a table by the window.”

Kara nods to the woman making her coffee before ushering Lena over to the small table. Unlike most of the booth seating, this table is smaller and more intimate. With their chairs pulled in, their gazes locked steadily on each other, there’s no mistaking this as anything but a date.

“So, any leads on our culprit from last night?” Lena asks.

The question takes Kara momentarily aback but just for a moment. Lena has likely never been at a crime scene before, and if her gallery security is as good as Kara has heard, that won’t change. Still, there’s the matter of the thief leaving a breadcrumb in her trail that stopped at Lena’s gallery. It could just be a coincidence, the thief showing they can hack their way in anywhere. It could also be a red herring, but Kara can’t shake the feeling that it's more than that.

“Kara, is everything alright?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I just… We’re fairly certain that whoever robbed the gallery last night also hit the Asian museum on Wednesday. With them bouncing the signal off your server, I can’t help but think you could be involved somehow.”

The widening of Lena's eyes as she says, “Excuse me?” is almost comical.

Kara nearly laughs until she realizes what she’s said. Then she can feel her eyes expand with equal shock. “No, not that. I don’t think you’re involved with the thief. I’m just worried you may be a target.”

“Oh, well, that’s an entirely different matter. Here I thought you were accusing me of something unseemly… and on our first date. That’s usually third date material.” There’s a smolder in Lena's eyes and behind her smirk.

It stirs something deep in the pit of Kara’s stomach and makes promises on which Kara would love to find out if Lena can deliver. Kara meets it with equal intensity. “Well then, I guess I have to make sure I don’t mess this up for two more dates, so I can find out why.”

Just then, their food arrives with the unerring and inconvenient timing that all wait staff seem to have. When the bill is flashed at Kara, she nods, and the girl takes it with her and leaves.

Lena must notice the motion because her gaze follows the woman’s retreating form. “Do we pay when we leave or…?”

“No, I’ve got this. She’s putting it on my account.”

Kara can’t help following every motion, as Lena pulls a piece of the croissant free and carefully places it in her mouth, past those kissable lips. “You run a tab at a cafe instead of a bar? Well, I know one thing we don’t have in common.”

She manages to pull her gaze free in time to catch the amusement in Lena’s eyes. “Right, you like your whiskey straight.”

“Unlike my women.”

“Well, there’s something we do have in common then.”

Lena just hums in agreement. “So, tell me more about this case. It’s the one from the Asian museum, right? You and your sibling didn’t get hired to do a recovery at Andrea’s gallery, did you?”

“We think the thief is one and the same. The MO is the same.” When Lena just raises her brows and waits, Kara decides to do a little prying of her own. “So, you and Miss Rojas, is there something there that someone interested in dating you should know?”

“Someone interested in dating me, she asks while we’re on a date. Do you have anyone in particular in mind?”

When Kara shrugs and offers her own little smile in return, it’s meant to be playful. They both know what they’re talking about and why they’re here, but this is how the game is played. It’s like fishing. You have to let out a little line before you can reel them in.

“Well, if this hypothetical interested party did exist, she shouldn’t let Andrea concern her. Our relationship is history, ancient history. It’s best left collecting dust in a museum closet.”

Kara’s smile bursts free, uninhibited and unrestrained. “I’ll let your mystery woman know… hypothetically speaking.”

“Hypothetically speaking,” Lena repeats. But then the tone changes again, gets a bit more serious, as Lena steers it back to their earlier topic. “So, what makes you think these two crimes are linked?”

“Oh, it’s not just those two. We think the Asian museum is linked with a rash of thefts all over the globe for the last six years.”

“Six years?” And Lena’s gaze is critical. Kara wants to ask what’s on her mind, but she decides to let this play out. She does love a good mystery. “My, that’s an industrious gang you’re after.”

“Uh-uh.” Kara follows a bite of her cinnamon roll with a healthy swallow of coffee and allows the sugar to dissolve before speaking again. “It’s one thief, one woman. She’s really good, maybe the best.”

“Really. You sound like a fan. Is there something between you and this mystery thief that someone interested in dating you should know?”

“Time will tell.” Kara waits a moment for Lena’s reaction, but all she gets is a smirk over a lipstick-stained cup. “I think she’s pretty interesting but just professionally, of course. So if someone happened to be interested in dating me, she should know I’m available.”

“Good to know, for science, I mean.”

“For science.” And Kara offers up a brief toast, the clinking of glasses all in Kara’s mind as paper cups touch. “Anyway, Alex would kill me if I really thought about dating an art thief. They’d go all Tybalt on that Montague. You should see Alex’s murder board.”

“Wait, actual murder?”

“Oh, no. Alex makes these boards, like the kind you see on homicide cop shows, that track the crimes, the suspects, and builds a profile for the criminal. It helps us narrow down suspects, as we search for stolen items.”

“I’m impressed.” And she seems to be as she leans in, giving Kara even more attention. “So, tell me about this profile for your master thief. They sound clever.”

“Clever enough to go into a revolving door in front of you and come out behind you.” Kara takes Lena’s moment of confusion to sneak another bite of her food, talking around it in a way that would get her a siblingly reprimand. “Well, Alex says the thief is well educated, independently wealthy, travels, maybe for business, and is stealing because she’s seeking attention, probably that she lacked in her childhood.”

“Seeking attention? I… That…” Lena sputters, struggling to articulate a thought for the first time Kara’s seen. It’s only after taking a moment and a sip of her coffee that she’s able to properly articulate. “What in the world would make your sibling think the thief is attention-seeking? She sounds highly skilled, to me.”

“Oh, for sure, but her thefts are accelerating and becoming more daring. That one at the Asian museum was in the middle of the day, and the theft at Human Haus was with over a hundred guests present. As usual, Alex is right. This person wants to be seen.”

“Do you mean caught?”

“Not necessarily, but that’s an interesting idea.”

Lena snorts and looks away, tears another piece off her croissant but doesn’t it eat. She tears that piece in half again, her fingers suddenly moving non-stop.

Kara recognizes the anxiety in that motion, and she reaches out, stilling those frantic hands. It takes her back briefly to last night at the gallery, to long fingers gripping her hand and her imagination. “Look, they’re not selling the things they steal. The thief is a collector… maybe.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I have my sources.” But something’s changed. The atmosphere of the conversation has left playful and entered serious. Kara’s not sure when it shifted or why it shifted, but she knows enough about women (though being one hasn’t seemed to help her any) to recognize when to tread lightly. So she withdraws her hand and chooses her words carefully. “A friend, sort of. I guess she’s more like an acquaintance. She’s familiar with people who deal in stolen goods and has her finger on the pulse of this sort of thing.”

“Like a fence?”

“I wouldn’t call Nia a fence, at least not to her face. I can’t prove anything but… Yeah, I guess she’s a fence.”

“Do you mean Nia Nal?”

“Crap,” Kara mumbles. “Sometimes, I forget how small this town is. Can you not say anything to anyone, please? Nia’s a decent person. She just… She just has a moral compass that doesn’t always point north, you know?”

“Only too well,” Lena says, and there’s that tone again, that serious note that has Kara sitting up in attention. “However, I don’t know if you can take what a fence says about stolen goods at face value. She’s probably protecting one of her customers, don’t you think?”

“Possible, except Alex and Sam, Sam is the one Alex wanted to rescue from Mr. Edge, well, they talked to the family that originally owned the first thing the thief stole. You want to know what they found out?”

“You have no idea. Go on.”

“Well, the woman had this light-blocking room setup with the kind of security you don’t normally see on an interior door. She’s hiding something.”

“Or protecting something.”

Kara shrugs. “Same thing in this case. Alex and Sam think the thief gave the woman back the painting, and that they know each other.”

“That’s… absurd, don’t you think? Did your sibling and Miss Arias actually see this stolen art piece?”

“No, but the woman slipped up. She knew the thief was a woman.”

“Yes, that’s quite the slip-up.” It’s several moments of silence as Lena raises her cup to her lips but doesn’t drink. Her gaze is unfocused but steady, as if staring at something only she can see.

“Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

“What? Oh, no. You’ve been… perfect.” And she smiles in a way that Kara believes every word she says. “I just remembered a stupid business thing to which I have to attend. I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this short.

Kara hurries to rise and follows Lena to the trash, shoving the last of her cinnamon roll in her mouth rather than have it find an undignified end with used napkins and paper cups. She raises one finger to the woman at the counter, and the nod back assures her that Alex’s usual is being prepared.

“Um, so this is nice,” Kara says, respecting Lena’s need to go but not wanting everything to end here.

“It was.”

“I’d love to see you again, maybe dinner… tonight?”

The scrutiny in Lena’s gaze has Kara feeling weighed and measured. Then Lena replies, “Walk me to my car?” as she runs her hand down Kara’s shoulder and under the back of her tie. Kara doesn’t resist the gentle tug that has her trailing along. If she took a moment to consider the leash-like connotations of the action, she’d probably bristle, but right now her mind is on tonight and the woman she hopes will be joining her.

Lena’s car is about as far from Kara’s truck, in the way of vehicles, that one can be. It’s metallic blue with a sleek design. If a luxury sedan and a high-end sports car had a baby, this would be it. When the lights flash and the driver’s door rotates up from a front hinge and not out, Kara thinks she might be in love. The car isn’t bad either.

“That’s a Karma Revero GT. Is it this year’s model?”

“I’m impressed. You know your cars.”

Kara smooths her tie after Lena gives it a playful flip. “Not really. Winn, he works for Alex, goes on about electric cars and hybrids. This is his dream car.”

“Really. Well, perhaps I should swing by your work someday, and Mr. Schott could take it for a drive.”

“I’d put down a seat protector,” Kara says, “if you let Winn drive. His level of excitement may not be able to be contained if you know what I mean.”

The crinkle across Lena’s nose when she smiles is Kara’s most recent fascination. It seems everything the woman does, every word choice and expression, is setting a high bar for anyone else to try and meet let alone exceed.

“So, tonight? I’d offer to pick you up, but I don’t know if my F-250 will be up to your standards.”

“Hmmm.” Lena just hums a little and walks away, makes her way around the car and leaves Kara to suffer with the lack of an answer. Her arm rests on the car’s top, and she stares at Kara for several seconds before she says, “I looked into you, you know.”

That’s not what Kara was expecting, but anything is better than goodbye. “Oh? And what did you find?”

“Things that made me want to get to know you better. Things that made me want you to get to know me better. In a sea of monotone people, you, Kara Danvers, are an unexpected and welcome splash of color.” She steps into the car and closes the door, but when the vehicle starts up, the passenger side window rolls down, and Kara hurries to it. “Call me.”

“About tonight?”

One nod. “About tonight. If we stay out past midnight, maybe we can start date number three, and some of your curiosity can be... sated.”

Oh, the noise Kara makes. “I’ll talk to you soon.” And she watches the car speed away, but her mind is already on tonight… and possibilities.

<><>

“Okay, I’m definitely going to marry—”

The last person Kara expects to see alone in a room with her sibling is Detective Maggie Sawyer. Though Kara has kept in touch with the detective, largely for business purposes, Alex and Maggie haven’t seen each other since they split up nearly three years ago. It wasn’t an ugly end to a relationship, but it was a painful one. Alex has had several casual relationships since then, one with a coworker named Sara which spilled into the emotional and left Alex hollowed out when their ‘casual hookup’ fell in love with someone else. Since things ended with Sara, Alex has kept their walls high. Though there has been the occasional night of clubbing, and there’s the emotional relationship with Sam they try to deny, Alex hasn’t really dated since.

“Maggie I… I didn’t expect to see you here. I’m just gonna—”

“Stay,” Alex and Maggie say at the same time, as Kara tries to back out of the room. 

“O-kay.” Kara really doesn’t want to get into the middle of… whatever this is, but it seems that Maggie and Alex have other ideas. So she edges into the room again and closes the door, but she keeps her empty hand, the one not clutching Alex’s food, on the knob in preparation for a quick escape. “Is everything okay? Is this… What is this?”

“Business,” Alex says. “Detective Sawyer has questions for us on last night’s theft. You should sit down, Kara.”

“I should sit down?” Kara has a vivid memory of those words. Each time she’s heard them, she had just lost a parent. It’s enough to make her want to call Eliza just to hear her adopted mother’s voice. Instead, she hands the barley bag and cup of coffee to Alex and makes her way to her office chair, sliding into a seat, aware that two gazes follow her the whole time. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, right? Tell her everything is okay.”

“Everything’s fine,” Maggie says, and her smile is reassuring in a way that Alex’s deep-set frown isn’t. “I just have some questions I’m hoping you can answer.”

That should be calming, but there’s a palpable tension in the room, and Kara’s fairly certain it’s more than gay drama and sexual tension… the Danvers siblings special. “Like security questions?”

“Like questions about this.” Maggie drops an evidence bag on Kara’s desk. The contents are small, just a little slip of white, and when Kara picks it up and recognizes the lipstick printed business card from the latest crime scene, she can’t help but smile. It’s a link to their mysterious thief who has been taking up space, rent-free, in Kara’s mind since they got this job.

“Yeah, I saw this at the scene. It was in the case when we opened the door. I didn’t see who put it there.”

“Turn it over,” Maggie says.

Kara does, not knowing what to expect, but she didn’t expect this. It’s a series of eight and nine-digit numbers. There are five sets, and each group has two numbers, so ten numbers in all. Out of the ten numbers, six of them are negatives. They’re machine printed, so she doesn’t even get to see her mystery woman’s handwriting. She just gets another mystery.

“They’re too short for phone numbers, and most of them are too short for social security numbers. They’re too long for the Dewey Decimal System. I don’t get it.”

“Neither did I, at first,” Maggie says. “It took hours of detective work and use of advanced analysis equipment to solve this.”

“So you googled it,” Alex says.

“Yeah, basically. Anyway, they’re coordinates without the decimal point, latitude and longitude. That one on the bottom there, that’s National City.”

“Oh.” Kara examines the card in her hand, the pattern obvious now that it’s been pointed out to her. “So are these the locations of her thefts?”

“God, I hope not,” Alex mutters.

There’s a protective note to Alex’s voice, the one they summon up against bullies and nightmares. But right now, Kara doesn’t need protection. She needs answers, and she’s certain something important is being danced around here.

“Maggie, just tell me what’s going on. Tell me what Alex is worried about.”

Maggie takes back the evidence bag, speaking as she examines the card inside as if she’s reading. “In order, the places are La Paz, Bolivia; Smallville, Kansas; Midvale, California; Claremont, California; and National City, California.”

“La Paz?”

Everyone has always told Kara she’d make a lousy poker player. Whatever she’s feeling it shows on her face. Alex says it’s a good thing Kara has a kind soul because that shows too. Right now, Kara isn’t sure what she’s feeling. This is a place she hasn’t mentioned in years yet thinks about daily. Some nightmares, you can’t wake up from.

“Okay, Alex had the same look on their face, like they might puke, when I mentioned La Paz. What do you both know that I don’t.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Kara,” Alex says.

And Kara nods because Alex is right, but the good years and the amazing people in her life have become a sort of insulation, and as awful as the past is, the present and future are bright. They’re bright enough to keep her looking forward, not back.

“La Paz is where my parents died.”

Though accurate, it’s not the whole truth. ‘Died’ sounds like a normal part of life, but there is nothing normal about what happened that day. Kara’s parents were murdered in her father’s home lab, someone seeking to put an end to her mother’s meddling in a local corruption scheme. Alerted by yelling, Kara saw it all from the security feed her parents had on a screen in her room. Kara saw them both die, saw her mother's empty eyes staring into the camera, from her bed where she was healing after breaking both her legs (answering a dare to jump off the roof ended badly). It took her nearly half an hour to drag herself across the house and down to the basement where their bodies were. Once there, all she could do was hold her mother’s body and cry. When the housekeeper found them the next morning, Kara was beyond tears and well into a lifetime of trauma.

“Fuck me,” Maggie mutters. “Kara, I’m sorry. I had no idea—”

“It’s fine.” She waves her hand, dismissing the apology. She’s had enough ‘I’m sorries’ about this to last a lifetime. “So whoever did this left a calling card with coordinates that basically mapped out my life. Why?”

“It’s the same reason we had two thefts within days of each other,” Alex says, switching to Kara’s new topic like someone who has spent half their life picking up on their sister’s moods and protecting her. “You were right. Our thief is bored. She wants someone to chase her, and she’s chosen you to do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you sound so happy about that?” Maggie asks. “Is there something that you’re not telling me, kid?”

“Maggie, Kara’s not involved in this.”

“No one said she was. As a matter of fact, her name isn’t officially tied to this piece of evidence. As soon as I saw Midvale, I thought it best to keep this piece of the investigation off the books.”

There’s a moment then, and Kara’s glad she’s here to see it. It’s not the love or passion Maggie and Alex shared, and it’s not the heartbreak they shared either. It’s friendly, a place she hoped they would one day get even for this brief moment. It’s further proof of healing.

“Okay, so what now? If the thief is targeting me,” and she knows she shouldn’t be as happy about this as she is, as she sounds, but her heart rate picks up just at the thought, “what do I do next?”

“Maybe you should go home. Go visit Mom,” Alex, always the protector, says, “We don’t want you getting messed up in the middle of this.”

And Kara is on her feet, ready to argue because as protective as Alex is, they slide into the realm of overprotective far too easily. “No way. This thief is calling me out. She wants a challenge. Let’s give her one.”

“Keep me in the loop, okay? Go, stay, I don’t have an opinion but keep me apprised, and I’ll do the same.” Maggie holds up the evidence bag one last time. “This is going to get officially lost in my car for a little while, at least until we catch whoever is behind this.”

“Maggie?” Alex extends their hand like an olive branch. “Thanks for keeping her name out of this.” It might be too early to call this handshake the start of a new chapter, but they’re headed in the right direction.

“Anything for my favorite Danvers.” Maggie winks over at Kara, and Kara smiles back more because their sibling is smiling at the detective’s familiar antics than for anything else. Maybe they are through the worst of it. “Oh, and Kara, I put a folder on top of one of the piles on your desk. You want to read through it before it gets eaten by the chaos. I think we may have found our first theft. Take care, kid. See you around, Danvers.”

Kara misses the end of their goodbye, if there is one, as she searches frantically on her desk among the sea of papers. There, with neon-colored sticky flags poking out from the side, is a manilla folder. Kara snatches it up but pauses, her heart skipping a beat as she sees the name printed next to the case number on the tab: Luthor.

Her mind tries to put together connections: Alex’s profile on the thief, the trail leading back to Lena’s server, Lena’s questions about the case, an accidental meeting of Lena at the bar… to which Nia had sent her. Kara pushes them all away as her heart tells her she’s acting like a med student jumping to conclusions. She’s hearing hoofbeats and thinking zebra instead of horse.

Page after page of information is a figurative zebra herd. The theft happened during the wedding of Lex Luthor to Lana Lang. Hundreds of guests and vendors were in attendance at the Luthor mansion, and it wasn’t until that night that Mr. Lionel Luthor checked on his art collection to see a set of idols from India were missing and replaced with plastic tiki glasses. Everyone in attendance was questioned, including Mr. Luthor’s fourteen-year-old daughter, Lena. She was never considered a suspect.

Kara flips the folder closed and tosses it back onto her desk. “Fuck me.” Her stomach is churning, the cinnamon roll from earlier threatening to make a return trip. Eyes closed, she slumps back in her seat, not opening her eyes again until a hand gently squeezes her shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

Alex glances at the desk, at where Kara tossed the file, and nods. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” But Alex knows all of Kara’s secrets, knows her fears and hopes. For more than half her life, Kara hasn’t kept a thing from her sibling, and she’s not about to begin now. “But we should. Sit down. This is a doozie.”


	9. Big Damn Heroes

The silence in the room has long since become uncomfortable. Still, neither sibling seems eager to break it. They’re in uncharted territory, in a land where personal and professional have crossed over and interwoven into a mess neither one wants to pick apart.

“Are you sure?” Alex finally asks.

“I’m not sure of anything,” Kara admits, heaving a heavy sigh as she slumps back in her chair. “The profile fits, but that hardly means anything, but this file…” She slaps the police record Maggie left for her, the one meant to be a general lead that instead leads a little close to home. “Why wouldn’t Lena mention this?”

“That sounds like a question for Lena.” Sound advice from someone whose heart is bruised for entirely unrelated reasons. “How much do you like this woman?”

“It’s early but… I really like her, Alex.” 

“Then talk to her. Be smarter than your older sibling, and be honest with her. Give her a chance to be honest in return.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“You learn more from failure than success.” Alex squeezes Kara’s shoulder, a gentle comfort amid the emotional chaos. “Be smarter than me and learn from my mistakes instead of making your own.”

“Be smarter than you?” Kara rises, wrapping her arms around Alex and holding them close. “That’s asking a lot.”

“I think you’re up to the task.” With a final squeeze, they pat their sister’s back and step away. “Now, I’m going to go back to the apartment and make some coffee. I think the one you brought me is pretty cold by now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m always here for you, always. Never forget that.” If there’s one truth in the Danvers siblings’ relationship, that would be it. They’re stronger together.

Kara decides it’s time for a second breakfast (or is it third?), so she joins Alex in the apartment. While Alex finishes off their first of many cups of coffee, Kara serves up eggs and bacon, a normal-sized serving for the elder sibling and a double for Kara.

“That will always annoy me.”

“What?” Kara asks around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

“How much you can eat. Too bad you can’t make a living doing that.”

“I know. I’d be rich.” Kara’s smile has returned, easy and at the ready. “So, are you okay? I know you haven’t seen Maggie for a while but—”

“Three years. She still looks good, don’t you think?”

“Am I allowed to answer that?” Kara has strolled into a verbal trap like a lamb to the slaughter on one too many occasions. Her learning curve may not be steep, but it’s not a bell curve. “I know you and Maggie haven’t been together for a while, but is commenting allowed? What’s the mourning period on this kind of breakup.”

“It’s fine, Kara. Seeing Maggie was… Actually, it was good. She’s smart, funny, beautiful, and that smile.” Kara still waits while Alex smiles wistfully, a faraway look in their eyes. It’s probably a journey of time not distance. “Yeah, she looks good, but I’m glad she stopped by. It didn’t hurt, not like it used to. It was a little sad, maybe, thinking about what could have been, but the sting is gone.”

“I’m glad, Alex. Healing takes time.” An entire piece of bacon disappears in two seconds. “In that case, she’s cute. Those dimples are adorable. I always thought so.”

“Hmmm. So, what about you? La Paz, huh? You want to talk about that?”

Kara shrugs as she chases a bit of scrambled eggs around with her fork. “Nothing I haven’t said to you before. I felt it. I don’t think I’ll ever not feel it, not remember how awful it was, but I’m not that scared little girl anymore, and I’m not alone.”

“You haven’t been for a long time.”

Kara nods. “So, what’s next, on the case, I mean. I noticed you didn’t solve it while I was out.”

“Unless your girlfriend did it, no.” Kara can feel her face tighten into a frown. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence… probably. Are you gonna eat that—” Alex’s second piece of bacon disappears into her sibling’s mouth before Kara can even finish her sentence. “You’re much quicker than Winn at that.”

“Winn didn’t have to deal with beating teenage you to the table so I could get firsts before you had seconds.”

“I was a growing girl.”

“Sure. What’s your excuse now?”

“I’m still growing… emotionally.”

The conversation turns to their communal childhood, to scraped knees and broken lamps, to sneaking out and getting caught. They had some rough times in the beginning, Kara being emotionally fragile and Alex not wanting a sister especially when they were still trying to understand themselves. But they got through it, and it got easier. Now they wouldn’t change a thing, not the good or bad because changing one thing might change everything today, and their everything is pretty damn good.

Alex pushes their empty plate across the table, stretching out and yawning. The sleepless night is catching up, and coffee can only push away so much of the exhaustion. “I’ve got to change into something that looks like it has seen an iron in this lifetime. Leave the dishes. I’ll do them later.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna soak them, or the bacon grease won’t come off the pan.”

While the water runs in the kitchen sink, Kara pulls out her phone to do some research. Last night, her invitation to the party came based on the recommendation of Jack Spheer, someone she’s never met. Maybe he’s heard good things. Maybe he has plans to hire Kara himself, but it’s odd that he wasn’t at the party. It could be nothing, but it’s a loose thread, and Kara wouldn’t be good at her job if she didn’t tug at those.

Kara only knows Mr. Spheer’s work by reputation and an article or two she’s read. He creates portraits said to be so lifelike you have to get close enough to see the paint ridges to know it’s not a photograph. Kara is intrigued and impressed when she sees his work on his webpage. His paintings have depth, and the subjects look like they were frozen mid-movement. It’s enough to make her skip to the ‘Female Form’ category, and wow is she glad that she did. Within are groups of paintings, each of one subject and organized by two letters. She assumes that they’re initials, but they could mean something entirely different to the artist.

She makes her way down the alphabet, perusing studies on women of different ages, sizes, and races. It’s like a buffet for her soul. She’s still on the top half of the alphabet, though as to which letter this is, she couldn’t say, when she freezes on a painting. The woman’s skin is pale, offset beautifully by her black hair which is piled into a messy bun. Her frame is average, thin with the kind of curves Kara appreciates. She expands the photo, mesmerized by the realism in the muscles on the woman’s back, the curve of her spine, the rise of her buttocks as her open dress hangs off of it. Sadly, the subject is facing away because Kara is curious to see if the rest of the package lives up to the promise of this sneak peek.

Kara scrolls through painting by painting of the same woman. Kneeling on the bed, nude, from behind, standing in profile with a towel hanging around her neck as she looks away, lying on a couch with her hands raised, shielding her face, each reveals a little bit more. Kara zooms in again at one whose background looks as if paint was splashed on the canvas. The subject is painted to match the background, her skin in yellows, blues, greens, browns, and reds. Rather than focusing on the subject as the canvas, Kara is drawn to the woman’s neck. It’s long, and tendons stand out in a way that makes Kara want to trace that line with her tongue. The subject's head is thrown back and to the side, showing more of the underside of a sharp jaw than the face.

Kara doesn’t think she’ll ever see her mystery woman, but the next painting proves her wrong. It’s from the back again, the woman in a towel she’s wrapping around herself. However, the mirror she’s posed in front of reveals her face and a lot more where the towel is open. Normally, Kara would be focused on rose pink nipples rising from a generous swell of breast, but the face in the mirror stares back at her as if looking over a table at Noonan’s.

“Hey, Kara!”

She jerks at the sound of Alex’s voice, and her phone flies from her hand, landing with a splash in the sudsy water. “Fuck!” It’s recovered quickly enough, and Kara shakes suds and water off of it, grateful to see it’s still intact and hoping the extra money she paid for the waterproof case pays off.

“Have you seen my…” Kara is still shaking her phone, flicking water off of it, when Alex arrives. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, I’m… I’m not doing anything.”

“Wow, that’s believable. Your phone is not an Etch-a-Sketch.” Alex holds out a hand, palm up, urging Kara into motion with flicking fingers. “Let me see.”

“Don’t judge me,” she says, as she hesitantly hands the phone over.

“Too late.” Alex scrolls, their eyebrows rising at the selection of paintings. “Really? You were hiding pictures of naked women? What are we, teenagers stealing dad’s Playboys? Who cares.”

“It’s not that. Do you recognize her?”

“From this?” Alex grins as they scroll. “No, but I like what I see. Are these photographs? Is this show in town because we could—”

Kara knows when Alex knows. Their mouth keeps opening and closing, but no sound is coming out. Brows drawn sharply together, Alex’s gaze flashes back and forth between Kara and the phone several times. Just their eyes move while their head stays locked on the erotic painting display. When Alex finally does speak, it’s in a harsh whisper. “Did she send you naked pictures… already?”

“Give me that back!” Kara snatches her phone away, wiping the still moist device on her shirt. “These aren’t pictures. They’re paintings.”

“She sent you naked paintings of herself? Classy girl.”

“Jesus, Alex, I thought I was supposed to be the dumb one.”

“Not lately. Not when it comes to girls.” It’s said without a hint of sarcasm.

“Look, you remember I told you it was Jack Spheer who invited me to Querl’s show?” At Alex’s nod, Kara continues. “I looked up Mr. Spheer. I wanted to figure out why he would refer me. His art is realistic portraits… like super-realistic. There was a section that was all female models, and I was scrolling through them when…”

“When you saw the hot chick you’re trying to hook up with naked, and you drooled all over your phone?”

“Ewww, no, but,” it doesn’t take more than a glance to make Kara practically salivate, “I can see why you’d say that. No, you yelled my name, and I dropped the phone in the dishwater.”

“You’re a gay mess.”

“Right back at you.”

Alex doesn’t disagree. Alex can’t disagree, but they’re quick to circle back on something Kara hasn’t even thought of yet. “You know what this means, right?”

“What? Oh, sorry, I was looking at the art again.”

“Yeah, you’re a real patron. Kara, the girl who’s in that file Maggie left for you, she knows the guy who invited you to the gallery where the thief left her calling card for you. She could be it.”

“Shit. No. Wait a minute. Lena was with us until we went into the room with the cats. She would have had to have run across the gallery, access the room, switch the art with the junk, and then leave without anyone noticing her carrying a half-dozen pieces of African art."

“Yeah… The timetable would have been tight, but she could have squeezed it in.” Knowing their sister well, Alex adds, “Don’t make a stupid joke.”

“My jokes are the best. It’s your sense of humor that needs work. Anyway, even if Lena could _squeeze in there_ under the wire, how does she get out without anyone noticing she’s carrying something. The guards at the front door didn’t mention that.”

“That’s a good question.”

“Oh, I know.” With a snap of her fingers, Kara races into the living room and powers up her laptop. “Miss Rojas gave me the security video from last night. I want to have Winn see if he can recover any of the missing feeds or trace a signal. But, I bet we can use it to see where Lena goes when she leaves us.”

“You just want to look at your girlfriend again.”

“On the security tapes? Please. She has her own page of art if I'm desperate.” Alex doesn't take advantage of the opening, much to Kara’s surprise. They’re probably too busy watching the video Kara has loaded and is running through. “So this is us right as Lena leaves. She heads down the hallway and back toward the main room. It looks like she’s gotten a text. She texts them back and–” Static fills the screen. “That’s when the signal dies, but she didn’t do it. She didn’t do anything to interrupt the security cameras.”

“Maybe, though whatever did could have been on a timer. Can you back it up and get a clear picture of the text she sends?”

“Invasive but if it will help clear her name, stand back and be amazed.”

“Unlikely.”

It takes a few minutes for Kara to grab the still she needs, expand it while keeping the best possible quality, and put it up on the screen. “Okay, so her text says… “I love you too, Mom.” Huh, not exactly master criminal stuff, is it?”

“Not really. Can you see where your girl is when the security feed comes back?”

“Yeah, hold on.” There are several minutes of static on each feed, but Kara hurries through it all quickly. Then it’s just a matter of locating Lena on one of the feeds. “Not there, not there, not there, oh, there she is. She’s at the bar, just like she said she would be.”

“Yeah, stay on her. I want to see what she does next.”

Though there’s a desire to argue, to say Lena’s innocence has already been proven, Kara speeds through the video. You pick your fights in life, and this is not one Kara cares to have, not now at least. Together, they watch Lena wait, call over the bartender, write something on a napkin that she gives to him, and then walk out of that video. Kara has to change feeds to stay on Lena, to follow her to the front of the gallery where she waits for coat check and then heads out into the night, her hands empty save for a small purse.

“She’s innocent.” Kara’s not sure who she’s telling that to, Alex or herself. It’s probably a little of both, but either way, she releases a ball of tension as she does. It’s early in the relationship with Lena. It’s too early to call it a relationship, but it’s also too early to let it end.

“It looks that way.”

“You sound less than convinced.”

“No, I’m… Maybe she had an accomplice.”

And Kara knows her sibling far too well to let that go as a casual comment. “Now you sound like you have another suspect in mind. Care to share?”

“The profile matches a lot of people who were at the party, but one of them knew the gallery the best and had access: Andrea Rojas.”

Kara would be lying if she says that idea hasn’t crossed her mind. “Would she really use her own badge to gain entry?”

“She was surrounded by security, tons of witnesses, and was able to show us she still had her badge. It’s the perfect alibi, and it all makes sense except…”

“Except what?”

“How did her accomplice get the art out of the gallery?” And that’s the multi-million dollar question. “How would you have done it?”

“Me? Hey, I was with you the whole time. Don’t drag me into your little mind game that you play when you’re on a case.”

“I know. I know, but hypothetically, if you had to get those statues past a whole gallery of guests and the guards at the front door, how would you have done it?”

“I wouldn’t have.” Before she can be reminded this is a hypothetical discussion, Kara adds, “I would have hidden them somewhere and gone back for them. Inside the gallery is the last place anyone would look for the statues, and this thief is a fan of distraction. It’s like a magic trick. You’re so busy looking at the assistant that you don’t know what’s up the magician’s sleeve.”

It only takes a second or two for the siblings to let that idea sink in, and when the same thought strikes they together exclaim, “The statues are still in the gallery!”

It’s a race to get out the door, something they would have accomplished faster if they weren’t tripping over each other. Alex rarely drives sedately, but today Kara is grateful for Alex’s Nascar like endeavors. They reach the gallery in record time, pissing off half of National City on the way. It’s closed, locked up tight, but there’s movement inside, and they knock repeatedly and loud enough to get a response.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed— Oh, it’s you two.” Andrea Rojas looks like she’s seen better days. Alex isn’t the only one who didn’t sleep last night. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for your help last night, but this isn’t a good time. I have your business cards. I’ll call you, alright?” She tries to pull the door closed, but Kara’s arm is like a steel beam holding it in place. “What’s going on?”

“Let us in and we’ll tell you,” Alex says. “It’s about the theft.”

That’s all it takes for Andrea to push the door open, letting the siblings in and locking up behind them. Compared to the festive atmosphere of last night, the gallery is deserted. One guard sits by the front desk, but as they make their way further inside, they don’t see another soul. Remnants of last night’s party remain. Thankfully, the food has been removed, but otherwise, much of the event remains. Tables still sit out in the middle of what’s normally an open floor. Wall hangings and tabletop signs, all decorated with a picture of Querl’s artwork and praising him, remain. It looks like the hasty exit that it was.

“The cops asked me to keep the details about the action figures from the public, but they don’t have any leads. Do you?” Exhaustion laces Andrea’s voice, and there’s a touch of hope, maybe desperation, in her voice.

“Maybe.” Alex nods to Kara, giving her the go-ahead.

“Miss Rojas, we think there’s a chance the art is still here.”

Andrea pulls to a sudden stop, a deep frown etching her lovely features. It’s impossible to say if she’s surprised by the idea or that part of her plan has been uncovered. Kara’s first instinct screams innocent, but as Alex has pointed out before, Kara is easily fooled by a pretty face, and Andrea’s is quite attractive.

“That’s impossible. The art’s gone. I saw it. You saw it. The police went through the room and dusted everything.” She scrubs at her face, eye makeup that clearly wasn’t made to stay on overnight becoming slightly more smeared. “Ugh, everything is ruined. I’m ruined. This is a—” She pauses, a bit of self-editing before the last of her professionalism is shredded away. “This is a disaster.”

“I’m sorry this is so hard on you, Miss Rojas. We want to help.” Kara’s always the soft one.

“Take us to the room,” Alex says, no compassion in their voice. Kara knows their sibling well, and it’s their steady focus on the job that has resulted in success so many times.

“It’s locked up. The police put some of that yellow tape over it.”

“Just take us, okay?” And Kara offers up a smile, grateful when it pulls a small smile in return, and a nod, from Andrea.

The room is just as she said. There’s a sign posted in plain view, marking it as a crime scene and that unauthorized entry is a crime. Visible from the end of the hallway, yellow ‘Police’ tape crisscrosses the doorway.

Andrea laughs, but it’s tinged with hysteria. “Do you think I can convince people it’s some type of contemporary art?”

“Probably.” Alex looks left and right, barely even glancing at the room. “People think giant soup can paintings are art. You could probably put a can of trash under glass and have someone buy it.”

“I’ll go that way.” Kara points to her right, and Alex nods, heading in the other direction. Andrea follows after Alex, and Kara can hear the gallery director asking questions, but their voices become white noise. There are two other gallery rooms on this hallway, glass fronts and doors giving a sneak preview of what’s inside. Both are alarmed, the red light flashing near the door, but when Kara reaches a third door, a plain wooden door with no alarm, she stops. “Hey, what’s behind here?”

From the other end of the hallway, Alex and Andrea return. It’s with a dismissive wave of her hand that Andrea says, “Oh, that’s just the assistant director’s office. There’s nothing in there.”

“Nothing?” Alex asks.

“Well, a desk, some filing cabinets, an office chair, just office stuff but no art.”

“Maybe,” Alex says. “Was your assistant director at the party last night?”

“Oh, the position is vacant right now. We’re still in the interview process.”

“So this is a vacant office?” Alex’s voice ticks up at the end. Kara’s heard that before when something inside tells Alex they’re on the right trail. “Can you get us in there?”

“I’d have to get the key from security. Do you want to wait here or—”

“I got it.” Kara kneels, examining the lock in question. It’s a wafer tumbler lock, and none of her single rise picks can handle it. She could do it with a bar and a rake pick, but there are other options. She grabs her jiggler keys from her pocket, a ring of lock-pick keys with different notches and rises to fit the most common lock designs. Luck is with her, and it’s on the second jiggler that she pushes back all of the pins. The tumbler turns, and with a twist of her wrist, the door pops open.

“That was… quick. Should it be that quick? Do we need new locks?”

Kara shrugs and pockets her picks. “The lock is fine. It would have taken me longer with a rake, and an amateur wouldn’t have gotten in. Honestly, Miss Rojas, you’re not going to stop a professional with a door lock. They just keep out nosey folks.”

“That really isn’t comforting.”

But neither Kara nor Alex are listening as they fan out in the room and begin their search. It’s as Andrea said. There’s a desk, filing cabinets, a chair, and a closet in one corner. There isn’t even a potted plant. Alex and Kara divide and conquer like professionals. Kara takes the desk while Alex goes through the closet, pulling out boxes of files.

The desk contains nothing of note: pens, highlighters, staples, a few files. Kara does a quick visual scan of the file cabinets behind her. What she finds makes her heart rate pick up. “Alex!”

“Did you find something?” they ask, abandoning their search through boxes.

“Look at that.” Each cabinet has a small card in the front showing an alphabetic order, but where Q-T should be, a business card with a red lipstick insignia has been slid into the place. Kara can’t help herself. Her hand is drawn to the card. It’s only when Alex grabs her wrist, shaking their head in reproach, that Kara steps away and gives way to her sibling. “Why do you carry those with you?”

Alex snaps the second latex glove into place. “Investigating.”

“Riiiiight.” Kara snaps a few pics of the card before Alex pulls open the drawer.

“Miss Rojas?” Alex looks over their shoulder. “You want to see this.”

Speechless is a good way to describe Andrea as she gathers with Kara and Alex over the African figures in the drawer. Kara continues taking pictures, cataloging their find for the police and, more importantly, the insurance company. They’ve done a lot of art recovery jobs, but this is the fastest to date.

“Oh, my God,” Andrea finally says, her gaze swinging to the side to settle on Alex. “I could kiss you.”

“Um, here.” Alex pulls a business card from their wallet and slides it into Andrea’s hand. “Why don’t you give this to your insurance company instead. You already reported the loss, right?”

“Last night, of course.”

“Good, then I’ll take a big fat check as a thank you, and you might want to reconsider the security around here.”

That’s Kara’s cue, and she pulls out her business card. “I know you have this already, but if you’d give this to the owner and maybe consider a recommendation…”

“It would be my pleasure.” As the siblings head out, Andrea trails behind but stops at the doorway. “Seriously, if there’s ever anything I can do for either of you—”

“Just pay us,” Alex yells back over their shoulder. “You might want to call your security team to guard the door until the police arrive. Good luck!”

Kara waits until they round the corner to say, “Hey, I think she likes you.”

“I got that.”

“So… She’s not exactly hard on the eyes.”

Alex responds with an inscrutable look.

“Really? Hot gallery director is ready to take you out for dinner, and probably _dessert_ , and all I get is a blank stare? Miss Rojas is smart, successful, beautiful—”

“And not Sam.” And there it is. Now that Alex has admitted who they want in life, who they want to be with, anyone else is settling. “Plus, Miss Rojas is now a client, and I don’t want to—”

“Mix business and pleasure?”

“That’s different. She’s a client. Technically, I work for her.”

“She seemed to agree with you,” Kara mumbles.

“What was that?”

“I was agreeing with you.”

“Hmmm.” It seems that sounds no more convincing to Alex’s ears than to Kara’s. “You just remember that with our thief. She’s business, got it?”

“Hey, I’m with you. Anyhow, I have a date tonight, and that’s all pleasure.”

<><>

Kara has never been to Mister A’s before. Situated on the top of a skyscraper in the middle of downtown San Diego, the restaurant boasts the best views and best food in the city. The view certainly lives up to its reputation. To the north, south, and east, the city is awash in lights, each building glowing with its own, distinctive hue. To the west, a cruise liner drifts into dock, and the sky is a mix of pinks and purples, promising good weather in the morning.

“First time?”

Kara’s drawn from her gazing by the voice of her lovely dinner companion who she has shamelessly been ignoring. To be fair, she did notice Lena when she first arrived. The woman’s burgundy top plunges to show a hint of cleavage, and it hangs off the shoulders, daringly. It’s a lot of pale flesh, unreasonably attractive collar bones, and tendons she’d like to trace with her tongue. Lena’s pencil skirt is a pattern piece, sort of a colorful inkblot pattern, and it the way it clings to curves from behind has Kara tightening up in places she barely remembers she has.

“Kara?”

“First time… what?”

One eyebrow raised, Lena chuckles. “I meant here with this view. I would assume you’re more experienced in other endeavors.”

“No need to assume, Miss Luthor. I’d be happy to provide proof.”

And Lena laughs again, this time with more gusto. A nearby table looks over at them, but she pays them no mind. Being young, beautiful, rich, and openly gay has collected her a fair share of onlookers and gossips over the years. She’s long since stopped noticing.

“So, you were telling me you had a break in your case. Care to elaborate?”

“Yeah, it’s really good news, actually. Well, good for Miss Rojas.” Kara butters a piece of bread with gusto while she speaks, giving it her full attention. “Alex and I found the missing art. The thief had hidden it in an office in the gallery instead of trying to sneak it out that night. Clever.” Lena sits across from her, hand on her wine glass but unmoving. “Are you okay?”

“You and your sibling found the stolen art.” It’s not a question, but there’s something in Lena’s tone that demands an answer.

“Pretty cool, right? The gallery was busy with the party, and the security at the exits never stopped working, so I figured she just stashed it inside.” Kara shrugs. “That’s what I would have done.”

And the way Lena leans back in her chair and surveys Kara leaves her squirming. It’s only for a moment before Lena’s smile returns, bigger than ever. “Aren’t you clever.”

“I try.”

“I bet the thief agrees.”

“I don’t know about that. I just ruined her job. She’s probably pretty pissed.”

“Kara, some women appreciate the aesthetic of a strong woman who gets the job done.” Lena runs a hand over Kara’s leaving goosebumps in her wake. “I know I do.”

“I definitely get the job done. As a matter of fact—”

Waiters have this mystical ability to show up at the exact wrong moment. So their water glasses get refilled, and menus are put in front of them, but the magic of the moment is lost. Kara’s too busy staring at a menu and prices she’s sure have a decimal point in the wrong place.

“Is that a thirty dollar hamburger?”

“Cheeseburger,” Lena says, “with cave-aged cheddar, grilled onions, and served on an Amish sesame bun.”

“For thirty dollars, someone better be flying in from Amish country to serve it to me,” Kara mumbles.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, I just… Everything looks great.” Kara hopes her smile looks less forced than it feels.

“This isn’t your sort of place, is it?” Apparently, the smile looks just as forced as it feels. “Tell me something. If you weren’t out with me tonight, what would you be doing?”

“I don’t know.” Kara shrugs, but she does know. She and Alex have a carefully crafted plan for when they’re both painfully single. It involves pizza, ice cream, and a Netflix marathon. “Probably just hanging out with Alex and eating take out.”

“So no escargots de bourgogne?”

Kara can feel the weight of her frown as she shakes her head. “Aren’t those—”

“Snails in the traditional butter sauce.”

“Ugh. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Come on.” With a snap of her wrist, Lena’s napkin is on the table, and she’s up and moving. Kara barely has time to grab another piece of bread before she’s hurrying after the other woman.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere a little more… pedestrian. Someplace that doesn’t serve snails.”

Kara nods and follows along because although she’s always been adventurous with food, the idea of not eating snails sounds far more appetizing than the other option. They don’t make it past the maître d' before he’s standing in front of them, hands wringing in distress.

“Miss Luthor, is there something wrong with the service?”

“Oh, no, everything is wonderful. We just have a family emergency, a family medical emergency. You see my date’s mother,” she gestures toward Kara who is struggling to keep up with the conversation, “has chronic podagra. She’s been hospitalized again, so we’re rushing over there. You never know how bad it’s going to be. Anytime could be her last.” With Kara’s wrist in her hand, Lena tugs slightly, and they both head toward the exit, Kara confused and Lena still speaking over her shoulder. “I’ll be back Friday night, and I’ll bring Miss Chang. Give my compliments to the chef.”

They’re several floors down in the elevator, both of them standing unspeaking facing the doors, when Kara says, “Podagra… That’s gout of the big toe.” Lena grins up at her. “You just said Eliza has chronic gout.”

“He doesn’t know that. You can guarantee if we ever come back, he’ll ask about your mother.” She shrugs. “If you play it up, you might get free snails.”

Kara is still laughing when the doors open.

Kara lets Lena drive if for no other reason than so her date doesn’t see the collection of power bar wrappers on her passenger side floor. Note to self: Clean truck before next date. Lena has told Kara to pick the restaurant using the word “anywhere” for where she’s willing to eat. It’s almost like a challenge.

“Anywhere? Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? If it’s good enough for Kara Danvers, it’s good enough for me.” Kara doesn't respond, just contemplates the merits in putting that statement to the test. “What, you don’t believe me? You think life at the Luthor mansion spoiled me for normal food?”

That feels like an opening, a space for a question she should ask and also wants to ignore. The odds that Lena is involved in anything shady is low, but low doesn’t mean zero.

“Can I ask you a question about your childhood?”

“About growing up with the Luthors? That’s one way to spoil your appetite but go on.” It’s said with Lena’s usual good humor, but there's an undertone, something dark, she hasn’t let Kara see before.

“When you were a kid, did anything happen, any sort of crime that you remember?”

“Well there, was the kidnapping.”

“I… You were kidnapped?”

“Only technically. My chauffeur did it on the way home from school. He took me to a local fair and said my mother had told him to take me out for some fun.” Lena snorted. “I was seven not stupid. My mother’s idea of fun involved recombinant DNA and gene splicing. There was no way she’d let her child be around funnel cakes and cotton candy unsupervised. No, I knew he was up to no good.”

“You must have been terrified.”

“Please, Oscar wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree, but he was hardly dangerous. I slipped away from him in the crowd and found a security guard who called the police. When they arrived, Oscar was frantically looking for me. Even though he was under arrest, he was relieved that I was safe.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad it all worked out well. So, was there anything else that happened,” Kara asks, shooting for cagey and missing by a mile, “maybe something to do with a theft?”

Oncoming vehicle lights illuminate Lena, the sharp angles of her face standing out even more strongly. “Do you mean the theft of my father’s art?”

“Yes, that. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

They stop at the next red light, and Lena turns, her gaze meeting Kara’s. “Kara Danvers, am I a suspect?”

“No, I—“

“I am, aren’t I?” Instead of upset, Lena looks oddly pleased. “As exciting as that would be, I was only fourteen when it happened, and I was under adult supervision the whole time. I didn’t go to the bathroom alone let have time to slip away and abscond with priceless art. Why would you think that?”

“The MO matches. Something was stolen and something else left behind, and your father’s art was, well, the ownership was in dispute.”

“Ah.”

“That’s it?”

A pale green glow fills the sedan’s cab, signaling the light change, and the car slides forward. “Honestly, I often wondered if my father did it so he didn’t have to deal with the lawsuits and could collect the insurance money. He always said the laws were written by those in charge, and that’s why we had to be in charge. Unfortunately, my father is long dead, and I doubt my brother is sober long enough to plan something so elaborate. Perhaps that does make me a suspect.”

“It doesn’t. I just… It felt weird that you hadn’t mentioned it, that’s all.”

“How my poor little rich family was robbed of millions of dollars and didn’t even blink is not usually a conversation starter. Given your line of work, I suppose I should have fit it in. So, want to take me away in cuffs and hit me with a rubber hose until I confess?”

“No to the rubber hose, and I’ll take a raincheck on the cuffs.”

“Cheeky, Miss Danvers.” Lena grins. “So, any dinner plans or are we just driving around all night?”

“Well, I have one idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Try me.”

“You said you’ll eat anywhere, right?”

“All right, I may live, I hope, to regret this, but name your poison. Not literal poison, I hope.”

Kara leans back in her leather seat and points ahead. “Go three more blocks and make a left. I’m going to show you how the other half lives.”

Forty minutes later, they’re both sitting on the hood of Lena’s car with their backs against the windshield and a bag of Big Belly Burger between them. Seeing Lena relaxed, reclining against the car and using Kara’s folded up suit jacket as a pillow while she nibbles on a fry is exactly the medicine Kara didn’t know she needed. As elegant as Lena is, there’s a casual beauty about her now. It makes Kara want to see her dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, maybe wearing a soft sweater or one of Kara’s—

“Oh, my God! It’s you!”

Lena barely slows in her motion as she bites into a fry. She does raise a curious brow at Kara, as she waits for an explanation for the outburst.

“I knew I recognized you. You were the girl from the gallery, the hoodie girl who I—” Kara stretches out across the vehicle, sliding partway down as she covers her face with her hands. “Ugh, I made a babbling idiot of myself in front of you.”

“I thought it was endearing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that was you?” Kara asks, removing her hands to free her vision as Lena grins at her.

“I knew you’d figure it out on your own. You’re a clever one.”

“I knew you looked familiar. It was your voice, I’d heard your voice before, and I recognized your smile. I just couldn’t place where.”

And with that, Lena’s smile just grows. “Oh, my lips looked familiar, did they?”

This time there’s no waiter, no one to interrupt them. There’s just the two of them, sitting on a hilltop overlooking the city below. It’s quiet, beautiful, and most of all, private. So Kara rolls onto her side and raises herself on her elbow, returning Lena’s sly smile with equal intensity.

“Well, sort of, but it’s hard to tell from way over here.”

“Then maybe you should get a better look.”

Lena beckons closer with one finger, and she doesn’t hesitate. The bag of food is deposited… somewhere behind Kara. She’s pretty sure she misses the car, but honestly, it isn’t even on her mind. Her only thoughts are about lips, lips that look full and soft, lips that apparently feel even better pressed to hers than Kara has imagined, and she’s been imagining a lot.

When Kara presses her hand to Lena’s hip, tugging the other woman closer, it elicits a moan that has Kara’s hand on the move. It goes from a full hip, down along the curve of Lena’s abdomen, and then travels up to the swell of a generous breast. And when Lena rakes her nails along the back of Kara’s neck in response, she gently squeezes before sliding her hand up to cup—

“Fuck!” There’s a blaring alarm that seems to come from all around them, and Kara rolls away and off the side of the car discovering that, yes, that is where she dropped the food. Lena’s half-eaten burger and a dozen fries do little to cushion the fall. She pops up from the ground like a meerkat, blinking in surprise as Lena scrambles for her purse. “What’s happening?”

With a ‘beep beep’, Lena holds her keys up, and the alarm cuts off suddenly. “You leaned on the key fob in my purse and set off the car alarm.”

“Jesus. I thought you had your boob wired which I would understand. It’s worth protecting. I’d even be happy to provide my private security services.”

“I bet you would. Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

“Me? No, but your food has seen better days.”

Lena waves her hand dismissively. “I was done with it anyway. I think half of a Big Belly Burger is my limit.”

“Hey, more for me. Let me just check my…” Her cell phone is in her pants pocket, shut off so as not to interrupt her evening. She turns it back on to verify it’s still fully functional and grimaces. “Damn it.”

“Is it broken? If you need a new phone—”

Kara already has a finger raised as she accesses the latest voicemail from Alex, ignoring the list of texts with an increasing number of exclamation points.

_“Kara, if your ass isn’t here in the next twenty minutes, I swear to God, Sam and I are heading to the museum to catch the thief without you. Call me the hell back!”_

Kara winces because of course, they have a lead while she’s on a date, a good date, a great date, a date that was just getting better. Still, a lead on the thief is it’s own allure, as much as she hates to admit it. So she calls Alex back, not even getting a chance to speak before Alex does.

_“Where the hell have you been?”_

“Uh…” Lena is stretched out on the hood of the car, biting her lip, and Kara struggles to keep her mouth connected to her brain for anything not having to do with Lena’s body. “Definitely not making out with my date and ignoring you. What’s up?”

If it’s possible to hear eyes roll over the phone, Kara does. _“Get your ass back here. Sam is here, and she has a lead on our thief, but we need to move now. I already called Maggie and—”_

“You called Maggie… on purpose?”

_“Professionally, yes. She’s gone off to get the museum curator to get us in. Are you coming?”_

“No, but I’m breathing hard,” Kara mumbles.

_“I heard that.”_

“Crap. Yeah, you think you know where the thief is?”

_“We think we know where she’s going to hit next, and the exhibit leaves the city in two days. She could be there right now.”_

“Damn. Okay, I’ll be there in like… thirty minutes?” She sends Lena, who has the good graces to roll off the car without complaint, an apologetic look. “Better make it forty-five. I left my truck back by the restaurant.”

_“Where the hell are you?”_

“I’m on a date, and you’re not my mom. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” And Kara hangs up, not even saying goodbye to her sibling, but her date is officially ruined even though it’s not Alex’s fault. It’s the thief’s fault, the thief who seems insistent on demanding Kara’s attention when she has better places for it. “Lena, I’m sorry but—”

“Duty calls?”

Kara nods, but she wants to say screw it to duty. Luckily, Lena seems able to act like an adult for both of them, as she opens the car doors and starts the vehicle. Kara pouts as they head down the winding road headed back to San Diego proper. She only hopes this hasn’t ruined things with Lena just when they were looking so promising.

“Does Alex think they know who the thief is?”

Kara shakes her head, but Lena’s eyes are on the dark road. “No, but they think they know where the thief is going to strike next.”

“Oh, where?” Lena asks casually.

“Alex didn’t say. All I know is it meets the thief’s MO, and whatever the piece is will be leaving town in two days.”

“Two days? My, that is a tight timeframe. I can understand why Alex was anxious to get moving on this.”

“I’m so sorry, Lena.” Truer words may never have been spoken. “Tonight was fantastic. You even took me out for Big Belly Burger.”

Lena chuckles. “Yes, like a big spender.”

“No, like you cared more about my comfort than expectations. I know it sounds silly, but you made me feel special. It meant a lot.”

For several moments, the only sound is the droning of the car’s wheels, as it heads down the dark road. When Lena does speak, her voice is quiet, perhaps unwilling to break the bubble of silence that surrounds them. “I think you are special.” She glances over at Kara, shy and hesitant as she continues. “You’re smart, funny, sweet, clever… You’re a lot more than I’d expected or even hoped for when I saw you in my gallery. You, Kara Danvers, are the complete package.”

That surprising sincerity fills Kara, causes her emotions to swell to a size that feels too substantial for date two. But when you know, you know, and right now, Kara knows. She’s grateful for every woman before Lena because all of them, every failed relationship, has brought her here.

Rather than say any of this, rather than say too much too early, Kara says, “And you haven’t even seen my abs yet.”

That’s met with a hearty chuckle. “I look forward to being impressed.”

The conversation stays light the rest of the way back to the restaurant. Perhaps they both feel they’ve revealed a little too much, and honesty makes you vulnerable. Willing to be vulnerable, trusting the other person with your truth is necessary for a healthy relationship, but maybe that’s date three territory. So by the time they pull up in front of the restaurant, Lena is laughing at one of Kara’s childhood stories.

“Your adopted mother sounds like a good sport.”

“Oh, Eliza’s the best. I honestly don’t know what would have happened to me if the Danvers didn’t take me in. They saved me when they opened their home to me, and they’ve saved me several times since.”

“It sounds nice.”

And it is. Kara would love to just sit in the car for the rest of the evening and tell Lena how nice it is, tell Lena more about her life, tell Lena that Eliza would love her, but it’s date number two, and Alex is waiting. So she places her hand on the car door, but she stops there. As much as there are some things she can’t say yet, there’s one thing she can.

“I want to see you again,” Kara says.

“I want to be seen by you again.”

“Good. Then I’ll call you. I’ll call you in the morning. Is it okay if I call you in the morning?”

“God, but you’re sweet.” And when Lena grabs Kara’s tie and pulls, their lips crash together again. It ends too soon, and Kara whimpers at the absence of those lips even as Lena smiles. “Call me in the morning.”

“Or I could just stay with you. I’m sure Alex doesn’t need me to catch the thief. I’ll probably just cramp their style.”

Kara’s door rotates up and opens at Lena’s push of a button. “Go. Go catch your enigmatic thief. Call me in the morning and tell me all about it. Let me know if I have reason to be jealous.”

“You don’t,” Kara says, as she steps out of the car. “I’ll call you.” The door closes on Lena’s grinning face, and Kara sighs as the car, and her evening, speeds away. “This damn thief better be worth it.”


	10. Misery Loves Company

The Junípero Serra Museum is located on a hill above Old Town San Diego State Historic Park. It sits on one of the most significant historical sites on the west coast, the site of the first permanent European settlement in what is now San Diego, California. Though the trip from National City only took fifteen minutes, when Kara’s commute home and the go-ahead from Maggie are combined (she needs local police approval and coordination), that extended the time considerably. Nearly two hours later, Kara sits in the back seat of Alex’s SUV, her sibling in the driver's seat and Sam in the front passenger’s seat, both studiously ignoring each other. It’s vaguely reminiscent of her parents’ rare fights, her stuck in the middle, and not in a good way.

“So, how’s Ruby doing?” Kara asks, breaching the oppressive silence.

“Good,” Sam replies. “Same as she was doing last night.”

“Right, right. We talked last night. Um… I went on a date tonight.”

“I heard. It was with Miss Luthor, the owner of the Luthor Gallery?”

“Yeah, Lena,” Kara replies, clearly hearing the smile in her own voice but unwilling to hide her happiness even for the sake of Alex and Sam’s misery. “She’s great. The date went great until… You know.”

“Sorry about that,” Sam says. “Next time I have a hot tip about an imminent crime, I’ll try to schedule it around your date night.”

“We could have handled this without her.”

Sam’s head turns sharply, the smile falling from her face as she glares at Alex. “I trust Kara’s judgment. I like Kara’s company.”

“You mean you prefer her company to mine.”

“Anyone in their right mind would,” Sam mutters, arms crossed as she slumps back into her seat.

In the back seat, Kara slides down, trying to get out of view. As uncomfortable as the silence was, she didn’t appreciate a good thing when she had it. It seems she and Alex have that in common.

“I’m sorry.” Alex speaks so quietly, so differently from their usual bravado, that it’s barely audible. But Sam must hear it because her shoulders relax slightly, and she angles her body so she’s partially facing Alex. “I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you when I had you.”

Sam scoffs. “You never had me.”

“You’re right, but I had your friendship, the pleasure of your company, and I pretended that was enough. I lied to you, and I lied to myself, and that drove you away. If you’re willing to give me another chance, I promise you nothing but honesty from now on, maybe more honesty than you want sometimes but total and complete honesty.”

Kara’s frozen in the back, worried about reminding the couple of her presence and breaking the spell.

“It’s too late, Alex.”

“Don’t say that.”Alex reaches over, hand hesitating and pulling back before touching Sam. The casual gestures that are shared between friends, between more than friends, now something of the past. “It’s only too late if you want it to be too late. Is that what you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I accepted a job with Morgan Edge.”

Alex nods, unwavering at this news. “So we won’t work together. I was an idiot to think it mattered this whole time, but we won’t work together. That doesn’t mean we can’t—”

“I’m moving to Metropolis.”

Kara can’t help but gasp, can’t stop that quick intake of air. It’s like she’s sitting through a movie, through the worst part, and she wishes she could fast forward to the happy ending or rewind back to better times.

“Metropolis?” Kara never has considered Alex small in any way, but this moment may prove her wrong. “But that’s on the other side of the country.”

“It’s good steady work, and the pay will let me give Ruby the kind of life she deserves, the education she deserves,” Sam says, but it’s clear it’s not just Alex she’s trying to convince. “I couldn’t say no to that.”

“You could,” Alex pleads. “You could if you wanted to. Do you want to?”

“Sometimes we don’t get what we want, Alex. We get what we need.”

A car pulls up in front of them with just its parking lights on. It’s a familiar late model sedan, and Kara is all too happy to hurry out and away from witnessing her sibling’s heartbreak again. “That’s Maggie. I’ll go.”

The cool night air is a pleasure after the emotionally repressive atmosphere in Alex’s SUV. Kara stands halfway between the vehicles, her back to Alex and whatever is going on in there. She knows it’s nothing good. It only takes a minute for Maggie and a man to exit her car and join Kara in the awkward standing about.

“Are they going to join us?” Maggie asks, trying to peer around Kara.

“In a minute. They’re dealing with something… personal.”

“Ah, I get it.” And Maggie does. If anyone understands personal and Alex, it’s Detective Maggie Sawyer. They were going to have forever together, but their ideas of what forever entailed didn’t quite match up. Alex could either give up on their dream of children or walk away from Maggie. It broke both their hearts.

When the car doors behind Kara open and close, one with a bit too much force, she winces. So much for their stealth mission and Alex’s happily ever after.

“Jeez, they look like a couple that just had one hell of a fight,” Maggie, the subject matter expert here, notes. “Alex didn’t mention that they were seeing someone. Are they together?”

Kara glances behind herself, the misery rolling off Alex and Sam in waves. “No, but they should be.”

“Yeah, relatable,” Maggie says, but she smiles in that sad way she has, the way that yesterday sucked, today isn’t okay, but I’m not giving up hope for tomorrow. “Anyway, this is Mr. White, the museum curator.”

“Mr. White, really?” Kara says. He looks like a professor from his neatly trimmed mustache to the leather patches on his jacket elbows. “No one thought about optics with that name?”

Maggie just shrugs it off like she does so many things, the way the weight of the world rolls off her back lest it crush her. “You come to expect it. So I have three San Diego squad cars covering the front and sides of the museum. Unless our thief is going to try and make a run through the park, they’re boxed in.”

“How about the back?” Alex asks, having finally peeled themselves away from pouting at Sam.

“They’d have to hoof it through about half a mile of woods down a steep hill. If your thief is here, they’re not going anywhere.” Maggie steps in a bit closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You better be right about this. This dude is pissed. If this doesn’t pan out, my chief is going to use my ass as a doormat.”

“This place is the target, if not tonight then sometime in the next two days. You can count on it.” They glance over at Sam. “Sam doesn’t make mistakes.”

“For the sake of my ass, I hope you’re right,” Maggie replies. “Oh, Kara, I got a look at the other calling card our thief left at Human Haus. It was printed just like the first one, and it said, “A dish best served cold.””

“Revenge? I guess that makes sense, but was it against the gallery or Miss Rojas?”

“I’ll let you know after I question her,” Maggie replies, already moving back to the business at hand. “Mr. White, I’d like you to meet the Danvers. They’re the ones who tipped me off about the threat to your museum.”

“This is ridiculous.” The privilege rolls off the man. “Our security is top-notch. We’ve never been breached.”

“We’ll see about that.” Alex makes a quick call through their contacts, and it’s picked up on the first ring as they put it on speaker. “What have you got, Schott?”

_“Well, I’m in. When you talk to someone in charge at the museum, let them know they seriously need to upgrade their security. I could have hacked my way into this place with my old Commodore 64.”_

The way Mr. White blanches is the highlight of an otherwise failed evening.

“Any sign of our thief?”

_“Someone’s in here.”_

“In the building?” Mr. White asks, his earlier dismissal turning to concern.

_“I don’t know yet. I can see their hack, and it’s a beat, and I can tell they’ve messed with the security, but I don’t know yet if— I take that back. You’ve got security shut down on the north-west side door, two corridors and a room… Um, whatever 2F is. That’s open for the picking. Huh, that’s weird. There’s also some security shut down further along on floor two. I wonder why?”_

“I’ll cover the side door.” Maggie pulls out her service revolver. “Mr. White—”

“I’ve got to get in there.” He’s on his way to the front door, security badge in his hand before Maggie can even finish speaking.

“You stay out here. Kara and I will go with him. Sam, stay with Maggie.”

“I’m going in with you,” Sam says, already on the move.

“God damn. Does no one listen to me?”

Kara shrugs. “Winn does. He’s still scared of you. Come on. Let’s go get our woman.”

The security guard at the front desk looks like he was just roused from a deep sleep as he sputters and points at his monitors. He turns a screen to face the assemblage to reveal a room empty save for some Native American artifacts. “See? No one’s there.”

“Schott?” Alex asks.

_“Yeah, the video’s on a loop. She’s somewhere, probably room 2F if she isn’t gone already.”_

“Where’s 2F?” Alex asks.

“Second floor, make a left at the top of the stairs. It will be on your right,” Mr. White replies.

Alex is already heading toward the stairway. “Can you lock down those elevators?” When he nods, Alex yells, “Do it!” Then they’re headed up the stairs with Kara at their side and Sam trailing behind.

The green light glowing from the security door of 2F is visible from down the hallway and a sure sign the security has been breached. Still, when Kara and Alex pull to a stop outside the room, they take a pause. Inside, on a display proudly touting Native American burial clothing and jewelry, is a complete Washington Redskins uniform, pads, helmets, and all.

“Fuck,” Alex breaths out the word. “How does she do it?”

“I… Okay, you have to admit _that’s_ funny,” Kara says, though the look Alex shoots her is not in agreement. “Come on, Alex.”

“Are we too late?” Sam pulls up next to the siblings, eyes widening. “Oh, that’s a yes. Karma’s a bitch, huh?” As the siblings wait curiously, Sam explains, “They robbed a Native American burial site for their display. I’m kind of glad the thief beat us to it.”

“Fine, but we still need to catch her. Sam, you stay here. Schott, alert Maggie. I’ll head downstairs. Kara—”

“Roof, got it.” Kara’s long legs and athletic build carry her to the stairwell and up two steps at a time. She bursts onto the roof, looking left and right. Behind her is a curved dome that rises to a peak. With no one in front of her, Kara races around it to finally set eyes on her prey. “Stop or I’ll… say stop again!” Kara nearly facepalms at this inglorious first line. “Stop where you are. You’re surrounded. Give yourself up.”

The thief stands on the edge of the roof and turns slowly. Though she’s dressed all in black with a large backpack on her back, and her face is covered except for a slit for her eyes, Kara is certain she’s smiling. She struggles not to smile back… and fails.

“Look, we know why you’re doing this. You’re not wrong, but this isn’t the way to go about it. Give yourself up, and I’ll talk to the cops for you. I bet they don’t want to see this thing go to a jury and will let you plead out.” Kara takes several steps forward, her hand extended. “You’ve got to stop though. Come on, this is your chance.”

The thief cocks her head to the side, seeming to consider Kara’s offer. It fills Kara with hope, but that hope turns to dread when the thief looks over her shoulder, looks down the stories to the drop into the woods below, and shuffles back until her heels hang off the edge.

“No, don’t!” Kara freezes, her forward motion stopped and both hands extended. “That’s a dead drop into the park, probably four or five stories from here to the woods at the bottom of the hill. You’ll kill yourself.” She raises her hands slightly higher, turning them palm up. “Just come with me. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

Kara’s hope washes away when the thief puts her hand to her face and then pulls it away, blowing Kara a kiss. Then she turns and leaps off the building.

“No!” Kara rushes to the edge of the building staring down into the darkness below. Then motion catches her eye, and she lifts her head. There, backlight by the sky, a figure streaks forward, seeming to fly toward the ground below. Kara’s gaze goes from that figure, to above her own head, and then back to the spier on top of the dome where the zip line is tied off.

“Son of a bitch.”

Kara watches as the thief disappears against the backdrop of the trees and then reappears down below under a streetlight where the other end of the zip line connects. She drops to the ground and races off to a car parked in a small parking lot. Kara is still staring as the car races away and jumps at the phone ringing.

_“Kara, Alex doesn’t see anything. They want an update,”_ Winn says.

“She got away.”

_“Are you sure?”_

“Oh, yeah. She just ziplined off the roof and sped away in a car down I-8. She’s gone.”

Then Winn voices her exact thoughts. _“She ziplined off the roof? Damn. That’s kind of hot, right?”_

“Very. Don’t tell Alex.”

_“No worries. I like my man junk attached.”_

Alex, Maggie, and Kara join Sam and a distraught curator back at room 2F. Maggie is the only one to go into the room, and she comes back minutes later with one of the thief’s calling cards in her hands.

“Your birthday’s in September, right?” She asks Kara.

“Yeah, why do you—”

But the back of the card she faces toward Kara answers that question. On it is more machine print with Kara’s birthday and words below. ‘Now we’re even. Catch me if you can.’

“Kara, I need to report this. She’s calling you out,” Maggie says.

“Yeah, she is,” Alex squeezes their sister’s shoulder, “and we need to stop playing her game.”

<><>

Last night’s close call has bled into a frustrating day at work. Kara stares Alex’s murder board down, willing it to spill its secrets and unmask the thief, but it will take more than willpower to solve this mystery. She and Alex have worked on some difficult recoveries together, but no one has ever made it personal like this, and it’s getting under Kara’s skin. Even the click-clack of Winn’s keyboard is setting her teeth on edge.

“Do you have to do that here?” she snaps.

“Work on the case Alex told me to work on at the office? Um… pretty sure that’s my job so yeah.”

Kara returns to her desk and slumps back into her chair. “I’m sorry, Winn. I shouldn’t snap at you. This case is just driving me crazy.”

“I get that. I’ve never seen an art thief go after one of you guys before. This must be how they feel when you’re on the case.” She glares at him, and he quickly returns to his work.

“Why me though? Why is she targeting me, mocking me? What does she want?”

“Maybe she likes you.” Winn shrugs. “Some people have a hard time expressing their feelings. Maybe this is how she crushes on someone.”

“I know that’s supposed to make me feel better, but it’s not. Maybe I’m missing something. Maybe I need to start over at the beginning.” She grabs the top file from the pile on her desk and begins to scan.

“Don’t you have a date tonight?”

“Not until later. We’re doing take out,” Kara finds a reason to smile, “at her place.”

Whatever Winn responds, Kara is beyond listening. Her mind is fixed on past robbery files, on every little detail, every witness statement, any leaf that she might not have turned over yet. Her instincts are screaming at her that she has enough to solve this mystery, but she just hasn’t put the pieces together.

It’s in the fourth file that all that changes, that the final piece of the puzzle snaps into place, and the image of the thief comes into sharp view. She’s staring at the witness list from the robbery at Lena’s childhood home, and her blood runs cold. The answer has been staring her right in the face, literally staring at her, and Kara has talked herself out of believing what she didn’t want to be true.

“Fuck!” Kara smashes the whole file onto her dsk several times, papers scattering at the force of the impact. “Fuck!” she yells as she tosses the file across the room, pictures and papers flying everywhere.

She ignores Winn, can’t even make sense of his words, as she storms off. She arrives at her destination fifteen minutes later, her blood boiling. A million thoughts go through her head as she prepares what to say, but when Lena opens the door and smiles, they all fall away, and sadness washes in.

“Kara, what a surprise. You’re early. We said nine, didn’t we?”

“We need to talk.”

Something crosses Lena's face. It only lasts for a moment, but her usual confidence and swagger falls away, leaving her looking much younger, more vulnerable, than usual. As quickly as it arrives, it's gone. If Kara hadn't been watching closely, she'd think she imagined it.

"That's concerning. I don't believe those words have ever been followed by something good."

Kara nods because what else can she do? Everything that was going right is going wrong in record time. "Can I come in? I'd rather not discuss this in your hallway."

Lena's penthouse apartment is everything Kara expected and more. It looks like it came directly from the pages of one of those magazines created exclusively to show people what they'll never have. It's beautiful but in a sterile way. Kara can’t help but think that it’s a facade, much like the woman herself.

"If you're looking for another woman, you won't find her." Lena runs a hand up Kara's arm, long fingers squeezing her bicep on the trip to Kara's shoulder. "I guarantee, I only have eyes for one woman right now."

"Cut the crap." There's more anger in Kara's voice then she'd meant to express, more than Lena expected either based on the other woman's expression. The truth is she has a lot of anger left over from her childhood which she lost too soon. Though it's usually buried under layers of smiles, when it bubbles to the surface, it's white hot. "I know, Lena."

"You know." Lena crosses her arms, but all it manages to do is show her need to self-soothe, to wrap her arms around herself when someone else doesn't. "Care to let me in on what you know?"

"You came into town right before the robberies started. You and Miss Rojas have history, no doubt the kind that gave you special access to her and her ID. Your home was the site of the first robbery, and you were _sick_ and didn't go to the practice dinner the night before your brother's wedding. That left you alone with only one other person, your nanny, Miss Mercer."

Kara expects denial. Hell, she wants it, wants some sort of other explanation for the way these facts add up. But when Lena just smiles, the bottom drops out of Kara's stomach because she knows she's right. She's never wanted to be wrong this much before.

"You're the thief."

"My, my. That's quite an accusation, Miss Danvers, but that's all circumstantial evidence. It wouldn't hold up in court."

"We're not in court, Lena. I haven't called the cops because… I don't want it to be true. Please, tell me why it's not true. Tell me you haven't been using me this whole time."

"Kara," Lena cradles her face in her hands, and between the gentle touch and soft voice, Kara can almost believe her. "I haven't been using you this whole time." Almost.

"You're a liar."

"About many things, yes, but not this. I'm attracted to you, more attracted than I can remember being to anyone, and I genuinely care about you. You're bright, funny, sweet, and your abs..." Lena releases Kara's face with one hand to fan herself. "Darling, you're the complete package."

Kara is pulling away before their lips can connect, before she forgets why she came here and gets lost in desire again. "You got Mr. Spheer to invite me to Human Haus, didn't you?"

"Did he tell you that?"

"... no. I called him, spoke to him, but he can't remember why he recommended me to Querl. He said he came to, and there was a note in his handwriting on his desk. He assumed ‘Drunk Jack’ knew what he was doing."

"Poor Jack. The only thing he loves more than women and art is his wine. Speaking of which…” She makes her way to the bar, pouring three fingers of whiskey into a glass. “Can I get you anything?”

“An explanation of why you used me, of why you’ve been taunting me. Give me something, one honest thing so I can believe you can be redeemed.”

Lena nods, her whiskey quickly finished as she sets the glass down on the bar. “Jessica is my only real friend in the world, the only one I know I can trust, but I think you could have been the other one. You’re special.”

God, Kara wants to believe that. “Then why—” Her voice cuts off as emotion spills into it.

“Can we work this out?”

As fast as Lena advances, Kara steps away. “Just tell me I’m wrong. Tell me it isn’t you. Just tell me… something!”

“And if I did, would you believe me?”

There it is. They’ve crossed a threshold. Everything has changed, and there’s no going back. “No.”

“Then I’m sorry.” Lena crosses the room and holds the door open for Kara. The cockiness is gone from her voice now, and this may be the only honest thing she’s said. “I'm sorry we won’t get to date number three. I was really looking forward to that.”

Kara pauses in the doorway, nodding. “Me too. I think we could have had something if…” If Lena wasn’t lying to her from the beginning. If Lena wasn’t playing a game of cat and mouse, and Kara didn’t even realize she was the mouse. There are so many ‘ifs’, and Kara is sure she’ll be counting them all for months to come. Still, when a hand grabs hers, Kara can’t help but tighten her grip in return.

“I suppose we’ll always have Big Belly Burger.”

With the warmth of a kiss on her cheek, Kara wanders out of Lena’s apartment. Somehow, she makes it home, but she couldn’t recall any details of that drive under pain of torture. The real torture is going on inside, her emotions a jumble of pain, despair, and loss, ones she’s been far too familiar with in her life.

Not even some double brownie fudge ice cream is taking the edge off, but it’s still Kara’s go to in times of misery. When the door opens, and Alex enters, Kara doesn’t even look up. No doubt Winn has updated them on Kara’s little temper tantrum, and the last thing she needs is to hear what a fool she is. She’s been telling herself that for hours now.

“What are you eating?” Alex asks.

“My feelings,” Kara replies, scooping out a tablespoon of ice cream from the pint and shoving it into her mouth.

“Your feelings, huh? How are they?”

“Delicious.” Which isn’t true. The ice cream might as well be ash for all the pleasure she’s getting.

“Mind if I—”

Kara strikes out with her spoon, smacking her sibling’s grabby fingers lightly. “Go get your own feelings. These are mine.” Stabbing the spoon back into the ice cream, she adds, “I think we have some Bing Cherry in the freezer.”

“Oh, my favorite.” With their own pint in hand, Alex perches on the edge of the love seat. Moody and quiet are unnatural for Kara.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kara nods, but the answer is technically no. How can you want to talk about something that you don’t even want to be true? “It’s Lena. She did it.”

“What exactly did she do? Winn called me and told me you tossed her file and stormed out, but I was in Vista talking to the insurance company for Human Haus. We’re getting a nice payday on that one.” Alex slides off of the arm of the couch down to a cushion. “So before I make any assumptions about what Lena did—”

“She’s the thief.” When the ice cream pint gets deposited on the table, it’s honesty time.

“You have proof?”

“Well, no.” And Kara isn’t sure she’s glad about that because she can’t go to the police or disappointed because there’s a little bit of doubt, just a dot, in the back of her mind that threatens to drive her insane.

“Did she admit it?”

“Also no, but she didn’t deny it when I confronted her.”

Alex nods, their voice soft as they squeeze Kara’s arm and offer support like so many other times in life. “What did she say, exactly?”

“That she likes me. That she cares about me.” She flops to the side, her head on her sibling’s shoulder. “Ugh, she’s such a liar. How do I even know if any of that is true?”

“Did she seem sincere?” When Kara stares up at Alex, they add. “It’s pretty much impossible not to care about you, Kar. Lena may be a thief, but she can’t do the impossible. She’s no Supergirl.”

Kara nods into Alex’s neck. “I know it was only a few dates. I know it was only a few days, but damn it, Alex,” she pulls back, staring at her sibling, “why do people have to hurt each other like this? Why me?”

“I don’t know, Kara. I know you deserve better.”

“I thought Lena was better.”

Alex just nods, just pulls their sister in close instead of offering a reproach. “It’s gonna be okay. One of these days, you’re going to meet the right girl, and when you do, you’ll know. Trust me. You’ll know.”

Kara’s sigh and the words, “I thought I just did,” are the last thing either sibling says because what do you do when the thief steals your heart?


	11. (Un)likely Cohorts

The two weeks since she confronted Lena have been some of the worst in Kara’s adult life. They’re still on the case, and knowing Lena is the thief but not being able to prove it lets them focus on one subject. Winn has been cursing his way through trying to delve into Lena’s travel and bank records. He declares Lena’s security tighter than Patty Anderson’s jeans in the 12th grade, and Kara doesn’t want more details on that. He’s made small bits of headway, but it’s too early to know if they’re on her digital trail or a trail of breadcrumbs she’s left leading them deeper into the woods.

Morgan Edge has made an appearance into the mix, much to Alex’s consternation (and lots and lots of cursing). He’s visited Lena three times, coming away looking smugger and more arrogant with each visit (though Alex swears that isn’t possible). His background is as murky and tainted as Lena’s is sealed away, but his security isn’t as good. Winn has managed to pull out a few key details that only raise Alex’s anxiety at Sam working there. The fact that Sam’s house is on the market and she’s packing up isn’t making things better.

About a week back, Kara gave up physically tailing Lena. Seeing the woman every day, watching her laugh and smile, just kills Kara a bit more each time, and she’s certain that she isn’t discovering anything Lena doesn’t want her to know. That’s confirmed when Kara goes to Noonan’s after leaving Lena at a restaurant with Jessica, and there’s a box of cinnamon rolls with a lipstick-stained card, this one with actual lipstick, waiting for her. It just adds insult to injury. Now even cinnamon rolls have been ruined.

It’s not the first gesture Lena has made. Flowers have arrived at her office along with a cornucopia of delicious foods. It kills Kara to push away the treats, to hand them off to Winn whose slacks are getting a little tight around the middle at the overfeeding. The one thing she can’t toss away is the original Jack Spheer painting that’s delivered. It’s of Lena, of course, one of his less revealing pieces. It does show off pale flesh, beautiful curves, and haunting green eyes. Though she wants to return to sender, Kara lacks the strength. Instead, she slides it to the back of her closet to be forgotten… but it isn’t. It calls to her at night like the tell-tale heart, and she’d be lying if she said she never pulls it out just to stare into those eyes again.

Today has been another long day in a string that is becoming drearily familiar. All Kara wants to do is kick off her shoes and fall face down onto her bed for about twenty hours. Actually changing is completely optional. However, when she flicks on the light switch in her bedroom, she’s met with an unexpected visitor.

“Hey,” Lena says from where she reclines across Kara’s bed, a book in her hand and a gentle smile on her face.

“Fuck!” Kara jumps back from the uninvited guest, her hands in fists before she even knows who’s there.

“Are you okay?!” Alex calls from the adjoining bedroom.

“Fine, I’m fine!” Kara closes the door, her mind racing, and her pulse pounding, as she stares into those eyes she’s missed so much.

Lena rolls off the bed, tossing the book to land on the comforter, as she smiles sheepishly at Kara. It's the same gentle smile she gave Kara the last time they spoke, and it hits just as hard. “So, you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

“I’m wondering a lot of things,” Kara says in a harsh whisper. “How the hell did you get into my apartment?”

Lena thumbs over her shoulder, and it’s only then that Kara notices the curtain slightly waving from the breeze of the open window. She rubs both hands over her face, trying to scrub away frustration and anger from this invasion of her home and Lena’s very presence.

“That window was locked and alarmed.” Kara enunciates each word carefully, her temper barely kept in check. Not that she needs it, but this is further proof of Lena’s guilt. What she didn’t need was Lena rubbing it in her face.

“Oh, I know. For household security, yours is excellent. It took me nearly an hour to hack your system and reroute your alarm to the police, sending them off on a merry chase to a bank on the other side of town. I’m impressed.”

“You—” Hands curve into trembling claws, as Kara imagines choking the life out of Lena. It’s the only thing that keeps her blood pressure from spiking to an all-time high. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re impressed. You have lied to me, pretended to date me so you could get information on the case, harassed me with baked goods, and now broken into my home. Give me one reason, just one, why I shouldn’t call the police.”

“Because I need your help. I’m being blackmailed.”

Kara doesn’t know what she expected Lena to say, but this isn’t it. “Blackmailed?” The flicker of hope that has refused to die inside of Kara burns a little more brightly. “Did you steal all of that stuff under duress?”

“The artwork?” Lena waves her hand. “No, that was all me. I just hate seeing people getting away with legal immorality. When the laws protect the immoral only the outlaws are just.”

“That… no. That is now how that works. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“True, but a very good wrong is better than a bad wrong, and a very good wrong can erase a bad wrong and put a more right wrong in its place.”

Kara’s fingertip bounces back and forth in the air as she tries to follow that train of logic, finally shaking her head with a sigh. “I think I’m losing my mind because that made sense.”

With a sly smile, Lena takes a step closer. “Now you’re coming around to my way of thinking.”

“Don’t.” And for that one step Lena took, Kara takes two away, stopping only because her back hits the door. “Don’t do that thing you do.”

“What thing?”

“The hot sexy thing where you smile and raise your eyebrow, and I get too gay to function. Just… don’t.”

And in Lena’s defense, she nods and sits on the bed again, waiting patiently until Kara is ready to talk.

It’s a short wait. “What do you mean, you’re being blackmailed?”

“Just what I said. Someone suspects me of being an international art thief, someone other than you, and when they were unable to convince me to steal for them, they turned to blackmail. They framed Jess for dealing in stolen goods but stepped in to keep her out of jail. Their intervention only lasts until I steal for them. They said it’s one time, but it won’t be.”

Kara wants to tell Lena she has some nerve, wants to tell her to get the hell out and not come back, but instead she asks, “Who?”

“Morgan Edge.” Yeah, Kara should have seen that coming.

“Morgan Edge!” Kara is by the bed, looming over Lena in a flash. “That’s why Morgan Edge has been visiting you?”

“I thought you would have picked up on that. You really do have a fabulously inquisitive brain.” Lena rises, gently touching Kara’s shoulder. “First he tried to hire me. Then he threatened to out me for my inventive paths toward justice. Even though he can’t prove anything, those rumors could ruin my business and stop any such recreational activities. When I told him to go to hell, again, he came back a third time and threatened me, promised to make me sorry. I didn’t know what he meant until I got a call a few hours later that Jess had been taken by the police for questioning. A piece Edge had quietly reported as stolen showed up in Jessica’s office, and a Mr. Carr, a shady little fence of little moral character or grooming, had stopped by the gallery to see Jessica under an assumed name. He claimed to be representing an artist, and he left her his card. He also left a bag in her office, one containing the stolen piece of art in question. The cops searched Jessica’s office on a tip—”

“Found the stolen art and hauled her downtown.” Kara nods, seeing the whole process, even Edge’s side, roll out in her mind. “Then Edge shows up, says he doesn’t want to press charges at this time and speaks on Jessica’s behalf?”

“Exactly. She’s free only so long as he doesn’t push this.”

“How do I know she isn’t part of your criminal activities?”

“She isn’t.” Lena runs the hand on Kara’s arm up to cup her face. “Jessica is as innocent as you in all of this. She’s a good person, the best person I’ve ever met. Well… one of the two best people I know. She’s going to go to jail if I don’t start stealing for Edge. If you think you and your sibling are busy because of me now, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Fuck!” Kara steps away but only to turn back around and step even closer to Lena. “Why do you do this to me? Why do you keep… Why?”

Lena’s hands slide up Kara’s arms to grip her collar and pull her closer. “Why do we do this to each other?”

“Hey, some of us have to work in the morning. Why the hell are you in here by yourself yelling at—” Alex stands with Kara’s bedroom door open almost as far as their mouth. Their gaze ping-pongs between their sister and the thief they’re investigating. After a quick bit of mental arithmetic, Alex comes away with only one answer. “Nope.” And with that the door closes, leaving Kara and Lena closed in alone again.

“Crap.” Kara takes off after her sibling, catching up to Alex before they make it back into their room. “Alex, wait. I can explain.”

“Doubtful. Tell me this hasn’t been going on for the past two weeks.”

“What? No. I swear, Alex, she just broke into my room. There’s nothing between us, nothing.” But Kara’s words sound hollow to her own ears, and she can see that doubt reflected in her sibling’s eyes. “I haven’t been seeing her. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I believe you,” Alex says, gripping Kara’s shoulder. “That fact that she’s here, Kara, the fact that you look the way she does about her being here, that’s a problem.”

Kara nods because ‘a problem’ is an understatement. Kara’s heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she saw Lena on her bed, and it isn’t just shock or anger. It’s something she’s been doing a lousy job of denying even to herself. “I have feelings for her.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I haven’t seen you this messed up over a girl since… ever. You dated Lucy for nearly a year, but when you two broke up, you didn’t tell me until I asked. You didn’t even seem upset.”

“The break up with Lucy was a long time coming. I cared about her, still do, but we had become friends not girlfriends, and we both knew it. When I told you, I was just saying it out loud.” Kara flops down onto the couch. “I was actually grateful when she said it. I’d been wanting to say it for a while, but how do you dump someone who’s fighting for your freedom in some desert halfway across the world?”

“Honestly.” Alex takes the seat next to Kara as they take their sister’s hand. “I’ve learned a lot about honesty in the past month.”

“Sam still isn’t taking your calls?”

“We’re not talking about Sam. We’re talking about the criminal you’re making kissy-face with in your bedroom. Now spill.”

“There was no kissy face. We were just talking… close together.” Alex doesn’t look convinced because Kara isn’t being very convincing. She lacks Lena’s ability to tell a lie so convincing that even she believes it. “She came to me for help. She’s being blackmailed.”

“You’re kidding me. You told her to go to hell and offered to pack her bags for the trip, right?”

“Alex—”

“No. No.” Alex slides away until they’re pushed into the other arm of the couch. “Do not ‘Alex’ me. That woman is a walking nightmare.”

“She’s being blackmailed to steal artwork by Morgan Edge.”

Kara swears all of the stages of grieving pass across Alex’s face as that sinks in: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. They move with a flash, and it takes someone who knows Alex the way Kara does to pick up on each subtle change.

Then anger comes back around, but Alex’s target for their range has shifted. They stand, hands in fists as that rage radiates off of them. “Luthor, get your ass out here!”

Lena peeks around the corner, only her head and shoulders showing as she hides in the room. “You bellowed?” Kara doesn’t blame her. An angry Alex is a scary Alex.

“You. Here. Now.”

And Lena comes, taking the seat on the couch next to Kara while Alex now looms over them both. It reminds Kara of when she got caught making out with Susan Vasquez, a girl a whole grade older than her, in high school. Susan’s father had sat them down, furious about the whole ‘gay thing’, as he had called it. The only thing scarier than that moment was Eliza when she found out and verbally went up one side of Mr. Vasquez and down the other for his bigotry and emotional abuse. Just like now, it made Kara grateful that the Danvers’ were on her side.

Alex perches on the edge of the coffee table, their gaze steady and intimidating as they wait. “Spill.”

And Lena does. She tells Alex all about Morgan Edge, what he asked of her and what he did to Jessica. Then she starts talking about her thefts, filling Alex in on details they hadn’t uncovered yet. When she admits to two other thefts Kara and Alex hadn’t even discovered yet, Kara finally believes Lena isn’t completely separate from honesty.

“You do realize it’s your fault your friend is messed up in this.”

“I know.” Lena bows her head, studying her hands with a degree of intensity that no part of your own body should garner. “Everything that happened is my fault. Everything with Jess and with Kara.”

Kara doesn’t even think about it. She reaches out and squeezes Lena’s hand, offering comfort. When Lena threads her fingers between Kara’s, her heart squeezes with that something she’s been failing to ignore but refusing to name since Lena walked into her life and turned it upside down.

“I’m not okay with whatever this is,” Alex points back and forth between the two women on the couch, “but it’s not my life to live. Just tell me this. Why Kara? Why did you pick her for your little game of cops and burglars.”

“Honestly?”

“That would be a nice change,” Alex says.

“I was bored. I’d started to leave clues about two years ago, trying to get someone to notice my work, but you two were the first people who ever followed the clues. Then you walked into my gallery, and Kara came and stood right next to me and,” Lena shrugs, “I thought she was pretty. I thought if I was going to play this game with someone, they should at least be easy on the eyes.”

“So it was all just a game to you?”

Kara tries to pull her hand away, but Lena clings to it like a limpet. “No! I swear, Kara, it was just supposed to be a bit of fun, but then you were so sweet and funny. You found the art I hid at Andrea’s gallery, and you figured out my next job, making me move up my schedule to finish the job. All I could think was how much fun it would be to do jobs with you there.” When their gazes meet, Kara thinks these may be the first truly honest words Lena has ever said to her. “Or to not do jobs with you there. You were the first thing I found that was more exciting than stealing.”

That’s when Kara finds her smile that’s been missing for the past two weeks. “It was the kissing, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, it was _definitely_ the kissing.”

“Nope. Fast forward over this bit.” Alex waves a hand between them, forcing them apart and making them aware that they’ve been drifting closer to each other. “ **If** we agree to help you, and I mean if, I have some conditions.”

“I’ll turn myself in if that’s what it takes. I just don’t want to take Jess down with me.”

“If you turn yourself in, that will destroy your gallery and Jess’ career,” Kara says.

“Better her career than her life,” Alex adds, frowning at Kara. “Do not pout at me. I am not the bad guy in this. I don’t deserve your emotional blackmail. Now, you, sticky fingers, we’re going to have some ground rules. One: you return what you’ve stolen.”

“I don’t have most of it. All I have are the Native American pieces and the Seated Buddha.”

“That garden gnome was hysterical,” Kara whispers, immediately regretting her comment at the look Alex sends her way.

“Fine. I’ll take those two. The recovery fees will help to pay for the therapy I’m going to need if you stay in my sister’s life.”

“She’s not going to jail?” And Kara shouldn’t sound so happy about that, but she also shouldn’t feel so happy about it. An hour ago, Kara was trying to find a way to prove Lena’s guilt, but now that it’s all out in the open, all she wants to do is protect Lena.

“I’m not the authorities. My job is recovering art not catching thieves,” Alex says.

“It’s sort of like I’m keeping you in business.” It’s Lena’s turn to feel the full weight of Alex’s glare, and she withers. “That was supposed to be a joke.”

“It failed. Don’t quit your day job. Not the illegal one, the… You know what I mean. Now, rule number two, no more stealing.”

“Actually, I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Lena—”

“Not like that, Kara. I have a plan for how to save Jess and take down Morgan Edge, but I need your help, you two, your hacker friend, Sam, and that police detective that Alex used to date.”

“How do you know that— You know what? That’s the least of my worries right now,” Alex says. “If that’s your plan, it won’t work. Sam isn’t talking to me, and Maggie is trying to arrest you.”

“Not anymore she isn’t. Thanks to you two linking my crimes internationally, the feds have taken the case from the detective. She stormed out of the station and went home with a case of beer and two tiramisus.”

“And you know this because you hacked the station, her phone, and her smart refrigerator?” Alex asks.

“I had to know what the cops knew about me. They’re not as good as you two.”

Alex stands a little taller at the praise. “Fine, that means Maggie might be willing to help us, but Sam is still out.”

“Actually,” Kara sinks away from Alex even before she says, “She’ll take my calls.”

“Of course, she will because you’re friends with every woman I’ve ever disappointed. Do you have Sara on speed dial too?”

“Alex—” Just her sibling’s name sounds like a yes.

“You’re talking to Sara? Jesus, Kara, just push the knife the rest of the way in and twist already.”

“It’s not like that,” Kara hastily explains. “She and Ava got engaged, and she wanted to know if she should invite you. That was after the whole Sam fiasco, so I told her it probably wasn’t a good time to pick at that scab.”

Alex nods. Kara is right, and Alex has put extra effort into listening lately. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” They’ve also started apologizing, something that has been freaking Winn out. It’s destroying the natural balance of predator and prey they’ve created at the workplace. “Okay, so I’ll call Maggie, and Kara, you see if you can get Sam here. Tell her something… not about me.”

“Can do.” Kara goes to her room and grabs her phone and asks, “Should I order pizza too? If we’re staying up to work on this, we’re going to need fuel.”

“Fine. See if Sam will pick up Winn on the way,” Alex says. “This is an all hands on deck situation. We’re going to have to all work together to catch one criminal and save another one.”

<><>

Alex’s ‘murder board’ has been moved to the apartment and repurposed into a planning board of a different type. Lena has printouts and pictures pinned to it, the centerpiece being the Kazanjian red diamond which is on display in Los Angeles right now. They’re talking in hypotheticals, discussing a crime that has yet to happen the same way Alex and Kara break down a crime that has already happened. It’s all for Maggie’s sake, of course. Though everyone knows what they’re actually doing, if they say they’re trying to stop a crime and not commit one, that’s what Maggie can put in her report.

“Why this diamond?” Maggie asks. “What makes it the target of choice?”

The entire team has assembled around their common love for pizza and beer and their dislike of Morgan Edge… though Sam is still on the fence there. Being told her new employer is a criminal is a hard pill to swallow.

“The Kazanjian red diamond fits two main criteria for Mr. Edge,” Lena explains. “First of all, it has an interesting history. It was discovered in Lichtenburg South Africa and eventually made its way to the Netherlands where it was stolen by Nazis during World War II. It was then found by a general in the US Army and sold to an unknown private collector. In 1970, it was sold again, to a Mr. Michael Kazanjian. He owns it today.”

“So it meets the MO for our mystery thief,” Maggie says. She sits back, taking another sip of her beer, clearly aware of the elephant in the room that is Lena. Questions she doesn’t ask can’t be answered, so it’s a case of willing ignorance.

“Yes, our mystery thief,” Lena agrees. “I expect you’ll be able to prove, Detective, that Mr. Edge is behind this theft and several others.”

“Amazing how evidence works that way. I’m sure the feds will give me a slap on the back and a hearty handshake before they sweep my case away.”

“At least you’re getting a criminal off the streets,” Kara says.

“Yeah, a criminal.” The way Maggie watches Lena when she says that leaves little room for interpretation. “You said two criteria, Luthor. What’s number two?”

“It’s valued at $50 million dollars.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of walking around money. And you said Mr. Edge offered to sell you this rock?” Maggie asks.

“Yes,” Lena says the word far too slowly, as if she’s an actress still learning all of her lines, and that’s fairly close to the truth. “He didn’t tell me he was going to steal it, of course, but I checked, and it isn’t for sale. That, paired with the little game he’s playing with the director of my gallery, made it clear he intends to steal the diamond, and he needs a buyer he has something on even if it’s fabricated.”

“Which is you, totally innocent and not involved in any wrongdoings, you,” Maggie says.

“As pure as the driven snow.”

Kara doesn’t snarf her beer, but it’s a close thing. She manages to swallow before exploding into a fit of coughs.

“Jeez, Little Danvers,” Maggie says, smacking Kara on the back, “you developing a drinking problem in your old age?”

“Down the,” Kara struggles to clear her throat, “wrong pipe.”

“Yeah, some things are hard to swallow.” Maggie looks pointedly at Lena as she says it. “Okay, so you think after Edge steals this diamond, he’s going to try and fence it to you.”

“That’s my hypothesis, yes.”

“Because you just happen to have $50 million tucked under your mattress?”

“That’s hardly a secure place to keep your money, Detective, what with so many disreputable sorts around.” Lena's cheeky grin is overkill. “I’d have to move some money around, but yes, I can make that happen in a few days.”

“Really?” Kara holds out a piece of pizza which flops over, dripping grease onto the plate on her lap. “No wonder you were willing to pay thirty bucks for a hamburger.”

“A cheeseburger,” Lena replies with a cheeky grin. “I’m sure Mr. Edge knows my finances well enough which is why he approached me. Of course, I wouldn’t pay more than $25 million for a rock that hot,” she glances over at Maggie, “hypothetically speaking.”

“Hmmm. So the plan is after Edge calls you, you’ll call me, and I’ll show up and arrest him with the goods?”

“That’s the plan,” Lena agrees.

“And he’ll have the stone on him, and only his fingerprints will be on it?”

Lena shrugs. “Who else’s would be?”

“Kid, let me know when you take this act to Vegas. I want a front-row seat.”

“Maggie, do you think you can make this case stick against Edge?” Alex asks. “We don’t want him getting out and coming after anyone.”

“You don’t even know if he’s guilty of anything.” Sam has said that about a half dozen times since she was read in on the plan. “Maybe he’s planning for this diamond to be acquired legally.”

“Morgan Edge?” Maggie scoffs. “I’ve got a file on that crook thick enough to wallpaper your whole office. He’s suspected of dealing in and transporting stolen goods, money laundering, bribery, arms dealing, witness intimidation, and murder.”

“Murder!” Alex jumps off the couch, the whites showing around their eyes even as Sam moans. “The guy’s a killer?”

“Well, I can’t prove it, but I had an employee flip on him, agree to act as a witness if we provided protection. By the time I got the approval from higher up, the guy had disappeared. Maybe, maybe he got scared and fled the company. Maybe Edge found out and paid him off, but maybe…” Maggie shrugs.

Alex wheels on Sam. “You are not going back there.”

“Excuse me?” Sam asks as she rises, staring down several inches at Alex from atop her high heels. “You do not tell me what to do. Nobody but me tells me what to do.”

There’s an argument brewing, and if Alex was thinking more reasonably they’d see it coming, but emotion seems to be blocking the logical outcome to this conversation. “You heard Maggie. He’s a killer!”

“A suspected killer and everyone is innocent until proven guilty.” Before Alex can respond, probably with their usual colorful word choice, Sam points accusingly at Lena. “She’s a thief.”

“Suspected thief,” Lena says, glancing at Maggie before returning her gaze to Sam. “Legally, and by your logic, that makes me innocent.”

“Lena,” Kara whispers, shaking her head. “Stay out of this.”

“She dragged me into it. I wasn’t… Fine.”

“Sam, I’m just worried about you.” When Alex reaches out, Sam doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t reach back or grab hold, but it’s closer than they’ve gotten in weeks.

“You don’t get to worry about me anymore. That was your choice, Alex.”

Instead of stepping back, instead of showing their usual anger, Alex steps closer. “You’re right. I screwed everything up, but do I still get to worry about Ruby’s mom? Do I still have that, at least?”

And at the invocation of her daughter’s name, Sam softens. “She asks about you all of the time.”

“I miss her. I miss… the way things used to be. Will you tell her that?”

Clearing her throat, Maggie draws attention back to herself. “No offense, but I don’t want to be here for whatever you two have going on. Can we stick to business?” Alex and Sam take their seats again, both greatly subdued, and Maggie gestures at Lena again. “Go on. Tell us what else you’ve got up your sleeve, kid.”

Lena doesn’t. Instead, she asks, “Detective Sawyer, would you go to Noonan’s and get everyone coffees and baked goods?”

“Hey, I’m an NCPD detective, not Doordash. Go get it yourself.”

“Maggie, I think maybe it would be better if you weren’t here for the next part of the conversation,” Kara says.

“Oh. Got it. Plausible deniability I can understand. I know how the Danvers like their coffees. How about you, Miss Arias?”

“One cream, two sugars, thank you.”

“You got it. Schott? You want one of those herbal decaf fruity things?”

“Aww, you remember. Thanks, Mags.”

“I remember it was disgusting. What about you, Luthor?”

“I like my coffee like I like my women.” Lena runs her hand up and over Kara’s bicep. “Strong.”

“Yeah, I’m not touching that with a ten-foot rainbow flag. I’ll be gone like fifteen minutes. No one do anything too gay while I’m gone.”

“Like exist?” Kara asks, but Maggie just shakes her head and exits the office, leaving the non-public servants to move onto the final part of the plan.

“Okay, enough smoke and mirrors,” Alex says. “How are you getting the diamond in the first place. Do you even have time to plan a job like this?”

“Oh, I planned it months ago. Adding in accomplices just makes things easier.” Lena grabs a beer and slides onto the couch, leaning against Kara. “Nazi history, stolen from Africa, and worth $50 million dollars? This one has always been on my wishlist.”

“Good luck Christmas shopping for her, Kara. So, what roles do we all play in this?” Alex asks.

“I’m glad you asked.”

It’s with entirely too much glee that Lena rises and grabs a small pile of folders off of the coffee table. She hands each one out to the others, each of their names printed on the tab of the one they receive. Inside, each folder’s contents are different. They might be blueprints, detailed sheets on museum employees, schematics for the security system, guard rounds information, technical specs for a server, and even a weather report for the day. However, they each receive a personalized sheet with their name and photo, detailing out their role and where and when they have to be to do it.

“I don’t usually work with associates, so actually being able to share the details of a job with someone has been a treat. I tried to compartmentalize the information each of you would need within your part of the heist. If you’ll just read through them, I can give you an overview so you see how all of the pieces fit together.”

“How did you put these together so quickly?” Alex asks.

“Oh, I did these days ago. When I realized I’d need help to get Edge, this group seemed like the only logical choice.”

It looks like Alex is about to speak, probably argue, but they only glance over at their sister, shake their head, and read.

The team explores their files with varying levels of excitement from Winn’s giddy enthusiasm to Sam’s sullen moodiness. Alex, who is usually apprehensive, makes complimentary comments as she flips pages and delves further into the details. Kara’s curiosity turns to concern as she makes her way through her file. Her expectation was that she’d be the contact person for the security team, possibly working with Alex, but her part in this rather intricate project is entirely different.

“Question.” Kara continues to scan her file as she asks, “Why do I need to get fitted for a harness?” Though Alex is the only one who shows outright disgust at the question, it does garner curious stares from Sam and Winn.

“Not _that_ kind of harness.” Lena’s smile turns into a sly grin. “Though, if you’re interested…”

“Oh, I’m all set on that front,” Kara replies, matching Lena’s intensity.

“No, stop.” Alex tosses their file on the coffee table. “We stick to business, and we get through this. When this is all over, if you two want to go off somewhere and sort out whatever the hell is going on here, just don’t tell me about it. Agreed?”

Lena and Kara both nod. It’s a better deal than Kara had expected to get from Alex. Though she isn’t even sure there can be an afterward with Lena, at least it will be her decision, hers and Lena’s.

“Good, now, Lena, take us through our different roles here.”

“Certainly. Let me start with a brief overview. Have any of you been to The Grand?"

"I have," Sam says. "They have some fabulous post-war pieces there, and the building's design lets in so much natural light. Why?"

"Because we're robbing it. Well, you're not, Samantha. Your job is absolutely vital, and no one else here can do it, but I'm getting ahead of myself. The diamond goes on display in a month's time, and until then, it's housed in 'the vault', an ultra-secure section in the middle of the museum. It's closed to the general public, and it runs on a hard-wired security system separate from the general security for the rest of the building. It's unhackable from outside and virtually impenetrable."

"So we've got a month," Kara says. "That's not so bad. I've done a security screen and update in that time."

"No, we have two weeks," Lena says.

"But didn't you say the diamond would still be in the vault? We need to wait until it's on display."

"Don't be boring, Kara. We're going to steal the diamond from the secure vault, and Alex is going to alert their security about the break in while we do it."

"You're crazy." Alex is speaking for everyone here. "You're a certifiable crazy person. Is that your type, Kara, crazy women?"

"Well, they have to be a little bit crazy to date me, right?" Though Lena smiles at Kara's words, it's clear Alex isn't finding any humor in them. "Alex, she's not crazy. Tell them, Lena, tell Alex why robbing the vault is the sane thing to do… please?"

"Oh, ye of little faith. As much as it will be more difficult to gain access to the vault than the rest of the museum, the vault's security is lacking in one thing that the rest of the museum has in spades. People."

"There are no security guards in the vault?" Alex asks.

"None. The floors are alarmed, the room has motion sensors, there are invisible alarms that go off if you break the light stream, each display has a separate alarm which is motion-sensitive. It's so well defended and difficult to navigate that people only enter it to change out art pieces."

"But you're going to break into it anyway." It's tough to tell from Alex's voice if they're upset or impressed. "Care to tell us how?"

Instead of answering, Lena says, "Mr. Schott?" and turns toward Winn.

Winn is engrossed in his file and doesn't even look up at his name, but he's paying attention. "Someone has to get into the security room and hack into the system there. Their internet security doesn't look that tight. Designing a program to rip it open will be a piece of cake, but who's going to do the delivery?"

"Alex will," Lena says.

"Excuse me? I don't even know what you geeks are talking about. What am I going to do?"

"I'm gonna give you a dongle to put in the CPU," Winn says.

"Someone want to explain that to me in a way that doesn't make me want to hit them?"

"Allow me," Lena says. "We'll put a program on a small drive for you, and you just have to plug it into a USB drive on their computer."

"Why couldn't you say that, Schott?" Alex asks.

"I thought I just did."

"So while I'm plugging in the dingle–"

"Dongle."

If looks could kill, Maggie would come back and arrest Alex for Winn's murder. "Plug in the dongle, Winn is providing IT support?"

"Correct. He'll be controlling the main security cameras and motion sensors, & he'll be coordinating for the team."

"What about me?" Sam asks.

"You're our inside person with Morgan Edge. I'm going to teach you a pocket drop."

"I don't like how that sounds, and I haven't agreed to spy on Mr. Edge. How do we know she," Sam points at Lena, "isn't just making this all up to make him a scapegoat for her crimes now that you're onto her? We already know she's a thief and a liar. We shouldn't trust her."

"You're not wrong about me being a thief and a liar, but I'm telling the truth this time."

"Prove it," Sam says.

"Sam, give her a chance," Kara says.

"Actually, Sam's right," Alex says. "We need proof, Lena. Your word isn't going to be good enough."

"I wouldn't expect it to be," Lena glances over at Kara, and the hope Kara sees in her eyes gives Kara hope in return, "not yet, at least. That's why I'll make a full confession, on video, and give it to Sam. It will include details not released to the public, everything you need to put me away for a long time except I won't give you the names of the people to whom I returned the art. All you get is me, and if I can't prove that Morgan Edge is the scum that collects on the top of the swamp, you can turn me over to Maggie."

"And how are you going to prove it?" Sam asks. "Why would I trust anything coming from you."

"I think that's me again. Hold on. I'm still reading." Winn flips a page, one finger tracing the lines of text as he continues down that page and then onto the other. “Yeah, okay. It looks like I’m hacking Edge to get information to prove he’s a bad guy. Also… Is this part right?”

Lena nods as Winn points out a section of his file.

“Okay, Sam, I’m also making a fake background for you. You’ll have a sealed juvenile file for theft, and you’re in tons of debt. You also have problems with Ruby’s dad.”

Luckily for Winn, Sam wheels on Lena. “Are you going to screw up my credit rating?”

“Of course, not. Everything we create can be as easily removed. We just need Mr. Edge to have leverage on you so he’ll read you into his criminal activities. You have to be there for the handoff of the diamond.”

“I don’t like this,” Sam says, but she directs the comment to Alex.

“I’m not thrilled with all of this either, but if Edge is even half as bad as Maggie says, don’t you want to know? You don’t want to work for a criminal, do you?”

“Well… no. I want to know the truth. Okay, fine, get me proof on Edge, but Winn does it. I don’t want you involved with that, Lena.”

“I didn’t expect you would. I’ll work on your false background and leave Edge to Mr. Schott. Does anyone else have questions?”

“Maggie will be with me?” Alex asks. “Do you really want a cop at the museum?”

“There will be one there, so I need it to be Maggie. We’ll set off an alarm on the opposite side of the museum to draw the guards away. Mr. Schott will control the cameras to keep us invisible. I wish we had another person or two to run interference. A distraction is better if it’s more hectic. On my Liechtenstein job, I had trained pigeons just outside the museum. I’d put down food and then blow a whistle. When security ran outside blowing their whistles, hundreds of the chubby birds descended on them, and I strolled away in the chaos.”

“You trained pigeons?” Alex asks. “Lady you are extra.”

Even as Lena smiles at what she’s obviously taking as a compliment, Kara asks, “So you mean you need more people for the job?”

“I don’t need them. I could do the theft without anyone, but more talented people make it easier. Sam is really the only one who’s critical.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sam mutters.

“But if we had an extra person, that would help?” Kara asks.

“It would. Why? Who are you considering?”

“I might know someone who would think this was fun and wouldn’t be concerned about the morality. I’ll get back to you. Can you tell me exactly what I’m doing? I’ve got blueprints, security diagrams, guard schedules, pictures of the roof… Am I your lookout or something?”

“Keep flipping through papers. There’s a write up for you.”

Kara does so, making her way through a pile of technical information until she finds a relatively brief writeup given how thick the pile is. As she reads, she can feel her brows rise higher and higher. She wouldn’t be surprised if they hit her hairline. When she’s done, she only has one word. “Oh.”

“Exciting, right? Won’t this be fun?” Lena asks.

“Fun.” Kara manages a nervous smile. “Sure, that’s one word for it.”

<><>

Morgan Edge likes to win. It doesn’t matter what the contest or the prizes are, and it doesn’t matter how much he has to cheat or who he has to hurt to make it happen. The more Ws he can wrack up the better. That’s all people are to him, pieces to conquer, pieces to manipulate, or prizes to win.

Sam waits outside Edge’s door, getting her nerves in place. Winn has shown her some truly awful information about Edge. Instead of the art lover he claims to be, he deals in stolen art. That information was bad enough until the gun-running became apparent. His specialty is supplying weapons to invading armies in exchange for plundered art. Might as well steal someone’s culture while you kill their people. The worst part was his vague message chain about R.B. and relocation. It included coordinates in the middle of the ocean. When Maggie confirms the name of the snitch was Robert Burns, Sam about pukes.

Her will about as strong as it’s going to get, Sam knocks and waits for a ‘come in’ before entering Edge’s office. He’s just closing an office safe when she gets in there, one that’s usually behind a tall painting (of Edge). He smiles at her in a way she once found charming but now sees as calculating.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Edge?”

“I did. Please,” He swings the picture back into place, covering the safe with a click, “have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m at work. I shouldn’t.”

“And I’m your boss. You should.” Without further discussions, he pours himself a whiskey and makes her a gin and tonic. It’s one of her favorite drinks, but it’s also not a topic they ever discussed. It’s an early verification that he’s been researching her, and it confirms that her anxiety is well placed. “So, Samantha, how do you like it here?”

“It’s great. I have regular hours, and that’s easier for Ruby.” She smiles. “The extra money doesn’t hurt either. I told her we could afford braces now if her teeth don’t feel like growing in straight. I don’t think she saw that as a perk.”

“Likely not. Sam, I know you haven’t been working here long, but you’ve become a very valuable employee very quickly. As a matter of fact, I’ve decided not to send you to the Metropolis office.”

“... What? Why? Where do you want me to go?”

“Nowhere. I want to keep you right here, close by my side. Doesn’t that sound nice.” Sam may have to rethink something on the topic of Morgan Edge. Maybe predatory is a better description of his smile.

“But my house is already on the market.”

“Yes, your house. Your bank called. I had an illuminating conversation with the bank manager.”

“I don’t understand. Why would someone talk to you about my finances? They’re mine.” Sam can feel the nerves wearing off as anger takes its place.

“Because I have money, a lot of it, and banks are very fond of money. Do you want to know what your banker told me?”

“Mr. Edge—”

“You’re upside down on your mortgage. Home values have fallen, and you’re in debt up to your ears. You’ll still owe a debt if your home sells.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Isn’t it?” Edge rises from his seat and sits on the corner of the desk, looming over Sam. “Is the fact that you’ve been paying off your daughter’s father, who’s in jail, also none of my concern?” When Sam doesn’t answer, he adds, “I read your juvenile record.”

“That’s sealed!” Sam leaps to her feet, drink slopping over her hand and onto the carpet. She doesn’t have to feign upset. Each piece he confirms for her, each bit of intrusion, just angers her more. “I was a child, and it has no bearing on—”

“You were a thief.”

“I… I was sixteen. I just drove the car.”

“You were also very pregnant. Is that why you did it? Did you need money to take care of your daughter?”

“I…” The glass falls from Sam’s hand as she drops back into the seat. She covers her face with both hands, mainly because if she keeps looking at him, she’ll kick him in the nuts.

“Hey, don’t cry.” She can’t stop herself from flinching when he touches her shoulder, but it doesn’t seem to affect him in the least. “I’m not going to fire you. I’m giving you a raise.”

“What?” She stares up at him. Blackmail she was expecting, but a promotion is a twist.

“You’ll be working with me full time. I’ll take care of that little mortgage for you, and your salary will be increased by enough to keep making payments to your ex. How does that sound?”

“Like there’s a catch. What’s the catch?”

“Loyalty. I expect complete and utter loyalty from my people. Whatever I ask of you, there are no questions, and your criminal background stays hidden. After all, that would destroy your career and put poor Ruby in an awful situation. I’d hate to see that, wouldn’t you?”

“So you’re threatening me.”

“Think of it as an opportunity. Look, Sam, if you’re not happy here, quit. Go back to the DEO, take whatever jobs they can scrape up for you, and you’ll never hear from me again. I like you. I have no desire to ruin your life. But if you want to make money, real money, and give Ruby the kind of life you’ve never even dreamed of, stay with me. I’ll make sure all of your secrets are buried so deep no one will ever dig them up. Trust me. I’m very good at it.”

“I bet you are.” Sam stands and sticks out her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He rises, taking her hand in his and then covering it with his other hand. “Good girl. We should celebrate. Dinner, just the two of us. What do you think?”

“I think,” that she’d rather be the guest of honor at a lion’s buffet dinner, “that I need a raincheck. My house is all packed up, and I have to tell Ruby about the plan change.”

“Of course, but I’m holding you to that dinner date.”

Sam grinds her teeth at the word ‘date’. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Edge steps in, only their joined hands keeping their torsos from touching, and leans forward. He whispers, “So am I,” then presses a kiss to her cheek before stepping away.

Sam manages to exit the room somewhere between casual and frantic stampede. Her heart is pounding all the way back to the car. She can’t even drive because she’s shaking, but she manages to access her contacts and make a single call. It’s picked up immediately. “Alex, you were right. Edge is… you were right.”

_“What do you need?”_

“A friend? I could really use a friend right now.”

_“How about I pick up some pizzas and see you and Ruby at your place… as a friend.”_

“Ruby would like that. Thank you.”

_“Hey, what are friends for?”_

After the call, after the assurance she wasn’t alone in this, Sam’s hands are steady enough that she’s able to get the key into the ignition. Alex Danvers is a fantastic friend. Alex Danvers could be a fantastic something more.

<><>

Dinner with Ruby and Sam feels like old times. Ruby and Alex laugh over dinner, and Alex can feel Sam’s gaze heavy on them several times. It feels different than it ever has before. It feels like possibilities.

It takes three books before the seven-year-old agrees to go to sleep, though she asks for a fourth. Alex presses a kiss to her forehead and wishes her sweet dreams.

She’s at the doorway and turning off the overhead light when Ruby says, “Alex, I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too, kiddo.”

“I don’t like it when mom fights with you. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Tell me about it. Hey, you know it wasn’t your mom’s fault, right? It was mine.”

Even in the dull glow of her nightlight, Alex can see Ruby’s frown. “Mom said it was no one’s fault. She says sometimes grownups need a time out too, and that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other. It just means they love themselves too.”

“Your mom’s a pretty smart woman, you know.”

“I know,” Ruby says with all the drama a second grader can manage. “She tells me that too.”

“You get some sleep. I’ll see you again soon.”

“Yeah,” Ruby smiles, “see you soon, Alex. Oh, Alex—”

“Don’t close the door all the way and leave the hall light on? Jeez, what am I, a bedtime amateur?” Alex is still grinning when she makes it back down the stairs and finds Sam has just finished stacking the dishwasher. “Your kid is dangerously cute. I hope you know that.”

“It runs in the family. I pulled another beer out of the fridge for you, but I didn’t open it.” Sam glances back at Alex. “I know you’re driving, so I didn’t want to assume.”

Alex nods and examines the bottle. “Yeah, as much as I’d like another one, I’m not sure I should drive afterward.”

“You’re welcome to the couch.”

“Yeah?”

“No strings attached, Alex.” Sam lifts her own wine glass, which she must have refilled while Alex was upstairs, and takes a sip. “I won’t even offer to tuck you in.”

That brings back memories of an almost-kiss that didn’t happen all due to Alex. That moment haunts them, it haunts their dreams (literally). If Alex could have one do-over in their life, that would be it.

“I think I’d be okay with being tucked in. Ruby likes it. Who am I to disagree with that?” Alex advances, but as soon as they hit Sam’s personal space, she backs away. That’s enough to tell Alex to do the same. They take two steps back and lean against the counter, giving Sam the space and respect she deserves. “Do you want to talk about Edge?”

“Not really. He’s a scumbag. He managed to combine blackmail, bribery, and a sexual advance all in one slimy conversation.”

“What do you mean, sexual advance. Did he—” Both hands up, Alex catches themselves. This, right here, is one of the things that caused the original rift. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business. Are you okay?”

“I am, and you’re learning.”

As Sam wanders into the living room, Alex follows along. That’s the most positive sign they’ve been given in nearly a month. “I’m trying, Sam. I know I messed up—”

“Big time.”

“Yeah, big time. No arguments there. It was all me, but I’m learning, and if you ever decide to give me another chance, things will be better.”

“Alex—”

“Just, give me one minute, okay? One minute?” Sam nods, and Alex puts their beer on the coffee table. Even the chance to talk openly about this is an opportunity Alex doesn’t want to waste. “Okay, I was hurt before you, but that had nothing to do with you. I know that. I even knew it at the time. The whole work excuse, that was just me trying to protect my bruised ego, but it wasn’t fair to you.”

When Alex pauses, Sam turns one of her hands repeatedly in front of herself. “Go on.”

“I did it because I was scared, not scared of you but of my feelings for you. Ruby told me something you said, something about adults sometimes needing time outs even though they love each other. I don’t know how you meant that, and I’m not asking, but I want to be clear on one thing. I love you, Sam.”

“You love me,” Sam repeats and takes a swig of her wine.

“I’m in love with you. I have been for a while, probably a year or more. I’m not asking you to say anything back, but I wanted you to know that.”

“Alex, your timing is…”

“Awful?” The hair tugging is another habit Alex is trying to change, but so far, it’s not happening. “I know. I’m sorry. Just, whatever else happens, I wanted you to know that. Even if we don’t see each other after this job is done, I wanted you to know that.”

“Take a seat.” And Alex does without complaint or question because sitting and talking is very different from being kicked out. “One of the things Edge told me was that he wanted me to stay in National City and not move east. Everything else he said made me angry, but at that, I felt relieved. National City is my home. It’s Ruby’s home. Everyone we know and care about lives here. You live here.”

“I live here,” Alex repeats as hope springs up in their heart.

“I spoke to my mom for the first time since she found out I was pregnant.”

That’s a sharp u-turn from where Alex thought their conversation was heading. “Oh, wow. What brought that on?”

“I don’t know. Nia mentioning her has been nagging at me, and if I moved to Metropolis I realized that Ruby might never meet her grandmother, so I made the call. She still has the same phone number.”

“So that’s… good then? Is that good?”

“It’s a start,” Sam admits. “The conversation was good. She admits she thinks about me, thinks about Ruby, but didn’t know how to reach out. She wasn’t sure I’d be willing to talk to her. She wants to come over, to meet her granddaughter.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a lot.”

“It is. I said I had to talk to Ruby first. She knows her grandmother exists, and she’s even asked about her, but I never thought they’d meet. So now I need to have a sit down with my daughter about her grandmother.” Sam finishes her wine in a final gulp. “Then my mom asked if I’m seeing anyone.”

“Oh.” And that’s how they got here. The subject of Alex, or more precisely Sam and Alex, is all wound into Sam’s mom. That leaves Alex with one important question. “Does your mom know you’re bi?”

“I told her. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? I wondered if she’d flip out again, start quoting the bible at me and tell me I was going to hell, but she didn’t. She got really quiet and said, “Well, at least same-sex marriage is legal now, so that won’t be a problem.”

“So she’d be okay with you dating… anyone?” Alex isn’t saying ‘me’, but it’s implied.

“I don’t need her approval, and I doubt she even knows what non-binary means, but she’s trying. As parents, that’s a lot of what we do.”

“I get that.”

“Do you?” There’s anger in Sam’s voice. Maybe not anger, per se, but it’s emotional. “You’re one of the most important people in Ruby’s life. When it’s time for school plays or science fairs, Ruby tells me and invites you. That’s it.”

“Sam, I—”

“Let me finish. I let you have your say.”

So Alex nods because what else can they do. No matter where this goes, whatever Sam says, Alex has earned this.

“One of the girls in Ruby’s class asked if you were her other mommy. Do you know what Ruby said? She said, ‘No, that’s my Alex.’ Not just Alex, not Mommy’s friend, ‘my Alex’. I understood it because that’s exactly how I felt, but I don’t know if I should have.”

“Sam—” Just one look is enough to stop Alex after one word.

“I have a lot of feelings for you, Alex, but one of them is distrust. If this was just about me, I think I’d be willing to give you another chance right now, but I’m a mom. Every decision I make is for more than myself. I need to make sure you understand that. Do you?”

Alex doesn’t answer at first. They wait until it’s clear the question is actually being asked. “I’m trying. I love Ruby, and I don’t want to ever disappoint her.”

“Good. That’s a start then.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“For now, we’re friends. When I know I can trust you, when I feel like your all in, I’ll let you know. I don’t know how long it will take but—”

“However long you need. I want this. I want you and Ruby, and I’m willing to be patient until I earn your trust.”

It isn’t a happily ever after. It isn’t a declaration of love, but it’s a chance. And right now, that’s exactly what Alex needs.

<><>

Even the elevator to Lena’s apartment is fancy. The carpets are plush, the chrome shines, and she had to send it down to them because it only goes to the penthouse. There’s only one button because it doesn’t make any other stops. All it needs is an elevator operator, but Kara explained Lena doesn’t want one because of her night time excursions.

Alex and Sam seem to be standing a little closer tonight than in nights past. It could be Kara’s imagination, or it could be progress. Maybe two weeks of planning, which culminate into what Lena calls ‘the show’, tomorrow have helped Alex and Sam find their way back to each other. If nothing else comes from this madness but her sibling’s happiness, Kara will take that.

“Any idea why Lena wants to see all of us tonight?” Alex asks.

Kara is pulled from her thoughts by Alex’s voice. It takes her a moment to realize that Sam and Winn are both watching her to understand the question was directed at her. “I’m guessing some kind of final run through with everyone present. All she told me was that it’s ‘tradition’ whatever we’re doing,”

Alex breaks eye contact to check their appearance in the elevators reflective wall. “Hrmmm. I’m not a fan of traditions.”

“You like eggnog at Christmas time.”

“No, I like rum, and Mom can’t tell how much I put in the nog if I drink out of a mug.”

“Yeah, that does sound more like you,” Kara says.

“Well, I like traditions, especially holiday traditions.” Sam smiles at the word holiday. “Since Ruby was young, We’ve always opened one present on Christmas Eve. Then I save a few things for after the holidays, to try and stretch it out more. We call them ‘hard day at school’ presents. It could be little things, like a pack of Matchbox cars, but just opening a toy and getting something new makes her day a little bit better.”

“I like those kinds of traditions,” Alex says.

Kara fake coughs as she says the words, “Kiss ass.”

They reach the penthouse floor, and though the group exchanges looks, no one comments when Kara knows the security code, and her thumbprint lets her in. At first glance, Lena’s home is impressive if a bit sterile. However, Kara has come to call it ‘the mullet’ much to Lena’s horror. No matter how awful it is, it’s not inappropriate.

“Come on,” Kara says as she leads her way through the front of the apartment. “The party’s in the back.”

Calling the backroom a party isn’t completely inappropriate. They pass a glassed-in gym with climbing walls, a gymnastics section, and rings set into the ceiling. There’s scaffolding pushed against one wall, but it can extend out and up in different sections. It’s all a setup for Lena to practice her extracurricular activities.

Sam pauses at the kitchen, eyes wide at the restaurant-quality setup.

“Is that a pizza oven?” Winn asks.

“Yup,” Kara replies.

“Dude, why have we been having meetings at your place? No offense.”

“Offense taken, Schott,” Alex says, but when they get to the final room, and Kara pops open the door to flashing lights and loud sounds, it’s Alex’s turn to gawk. “She has a video game room?”

“Yeah, didn’t I mention—”

“Move.” Alex doesn’t let their sister finish and practically pushes Kara out of the way as they rush to the nearest pinball machine.

“Is that Galaga?” Winn grins and rushes into the room past Maggie, who is busily murdering velociraptors in a shooting game. “Hey, Mags! Dibs on Galaga!”

“Welcome to my home, Sam,” Lena says as she appears from behind one of the rows of games. “I see Alex and Winn have already made themselves at home.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No worries, Kara. Having fun is what tonight is all about.”

“So no more case files?” Sam asks.

“Not tonight. I have a tradition. The night before every job, I pick one of my favorite things and celebrate. Samantha, if video games aren’t your thing, We have a movie room, billiards, a wine room—”

“Is that Dance, Dance Revolution?” Sam asks.

“It is. Are you a fan?”

“Are you kidding me? Ruby and I kill at this game.” Sam pushes her purse into Kara’s hands. “Give me twenty minutes on this, and then show me your wine room.”

“You have a deal,” Lena replies.

When they’re alone, the others lost in bright lights and sound effects, Kara asks, “Did you break that tradition to go out with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you weren’t planning to steal the Native American artifacts the night you did, but were you planning to steal them the next night?”

“I was.”

“So you broke a tradition.”

Lena glances down at her hands, looking back up through half-veiled eyes and biting her lip in a way that drives Kara crazy. “Why, Kara, haven’t you figured it out? You are one of my most favorite things.”


	12. It's a Lollipop Without a Stick

Two weeks of training and practice have gone into this moment. That sounds like a lot until you consider they’re about to break into a museum and waltz out with a $50 million diamond. Though professionals in their own right, they’re mostly a ragtag group of amateurs when it comes to grand larceny. Alex remembers when they told a nervous Ruby that the feeling in her stomach was just butterflies and perfectly normal before you go on stage to perform in front of all of the parents. However, right now, Alex feels like they’ve eaten Mothra.

They pull out their cell phone, checking the time. A whole minute has passed since Alex last checked. It’s like watching a pot on the stove. It never seems to boil.

“Why are you so nervous?” Maggie leans against the side of her police car, her phone in her hand as she finishes up a game of sudoku.

“Why aren’t you more nervous?” Alex snaps back, instantly regretting their response. “Sorry, I’ve been working on my temper.”

“Why, I think it’s working fine. Maybe you need to switch to decaf or give up nicotine.”

“I don’t smoke. You know I don’t smoke.”

“Then maybe you should start.” Maggie grins, and Alex immediately relaxes. Their ex has always been easy-going, the laid back accessory to their own Type A personality. It’s why they worked so well together... well, that and the sex.

_“Humans, museum security says their last guest is headed toward the exit. Sixty seconds to go time.”_

Maggie pockets her phone and taps at her earpiece. “Roger that.”

_“It’s Winn, not Roger.”_

Alex can feel their temper rising at the stupidity of the comment, at the unprofessionalism, at the— But Maggie is laughing. It’s a sound they’ve missed. So they smile too and shake their head, remembering something Maggie always says. ‘You can have fun while being serious. They’re not opposites.’

“Roger, Roger,” Alex says. “Give us a countdown at five seconds.”

_“You got it, boss.”_

“You _are_ working on your temper,” Maggie says. “I thought you’d snap at Schott for that little joke.”

“Me? Nah. I’m not that tense. You remember what you need to do when we get in there?”

“Sure, wave my badge around and flex my authority even when I don’t have any. Don’t worry. They teach us that in the academy.” She’s probably only half kidding. “I’m more worried about the main attraction. If they get caught—”

“You mean Edge?”

“Right, Edge.” That moment hangs in the air between them, the unspoken truth of what’s about to happen and who’s about to do it. “Anyway, if Edge gets caught before I catch him, this all falls apart.”

“I know, but I think _Edge_ has enough experience to pull this off.”

“What about Edge’s friend?”

It’s like Maggie’s reading Alex’s mind. Lena is an old hand at this, but Kara has spent her career on the other side of security. Will she be able to make the transition, even for a good cause, to the dark side? And now Alex is annoyed that a stupid Star Wars reference came to mind. They really need to make some new friends.

“The friend will do fine.” She’d better. “Are you sure they’ll call the station after I alert them? If the museum doesn’t—”

“Alex, chill. We went over the timetable like a dozen times. Standard protocol is to make a non-emergency call to the station if there’s a non-confirmed threat. Dispatch will alert all units, and I’ll respond because I’m right across the street. None of the plainclothes want to spend the afternoon doing a walkthrough. It will be fine.”

Alex tugs at their hair before smoothing it back down. “Right. Fine.”

“Hey,” Maggie takes Alex’s hand in her own and stops those nervous fingers. “You’ve got her back, and I’ve got yours.”

And she does. Alex is sure of that. A lack of trust isn’t what ended them. “Thank you. I’m glad that you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

“Same. I just needed some time after… You know.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I wish—”

“If you get a second chance with Sam, don’t blow it.” It’s not anything Alex doesn’t know, but hearing it from one of the wisest people they know definitely helps.

_“Ten seconds, people.”_

As Winn begins the countdown, Alex and Maggie go to their respective vehicles. At zero, Maggie throws Alex a little salute and drives off. It’s showtime.

The Broad, with its dramatic white, concave, rounded-diamond-shaped exterior, is as much a piece of art as the exhibits it houses. Architect Liz Diller describes the design concept as “porous and absorptive, channeling light into its public spaces and galleries.” Though anytime a new museum opens in LA, it’s a big deal, this museum’s distinctive design, big-ticket collection, and free admission have proven to be monumental. Over 2,000 post-war works from the private collection of Eli and Edythe Broad are on display here, though only about 250 at a time, along with exciting new work from contemporary artists and the occasional piece on loan. It’s one of those pieces, a red diamond with a price tag that makes most people blanch, that is the star attraction today.

Though the diamond in question won’t be available for public view for another two weeks, that’s where the vault part of the museum’s ‘veil and vault design’ comes into play. The 120,000-square feet museum has a structural exoskeleton that houses public gallery spaces bathed in natural light and surrounds a private, light-controlled art archive. That archive, known as the vault, is a contained and localized collection storage differing from the secondary storage practice most museums prefer. In short, everything not on display is housed within a second area in the museum, outside the public eye. It makes for a convenient, one-stop-shopping setup for your enterprising thief.

A kindly older woman by the name of Berniece, a local volunteer, holds the door open and wishes the young family who leaves the best. Alex doesn’t break stride as they walk past the woman, ignoring her protests. They march straight to the front desk, ignoring the shocked look of the blonde woman there named Cindy. She’s forty-two years old, lactose intolerant, has two cats, and she’s a Scorpio. Lena’s files were damn complete.

“Ma’am, we’re closed. You can come back tomorrow at 9 AM.”

“I need to talk to your head of security, ASAP.” They slide their business card across the desk to the confused woman.

“I don’t know if—”

Alex taps at their business card until the woman looks down and actually reads the name of the company. “This is related to a series of recent thefts. He wants to talk to me.”

Though Alex doubted this would work, the head of security (Juan, fifty-seven, wife is named Mary Beth, daughter is Anya, he’s a Mets fan, no pets) shows up within a few minutes and right on schedule. He’s more soft-spoken than Alex had assumed based on the picture of him in their file. He has the build that screams cushy security job, and he barely glances at Alex's card, not even asking for an ID. Maybe this is going to work.

“Miss Danvers, it’s nice to meet you. Maybe we could go discuss whatever this is in my office.”

“You don’t have time. You need to get to your security hub. You’re about to be breached if you haven’t been already.”

Lena’s sheet on him had predicted his reaction would be one of shock. She isn’t off. “My team would have alerted me if something was wrong.”

“That’s what the people at the Asian Museum thought, and the director at Human Haus, and the curator of the Junípero Serra Museum for that matter. Do you know what they all have in common?”

“I…” Juan nods his head.

“Do you want to add your name to the list? Do you want that going down on your watch?”

“Follow me.” Alex does as he heads to a door that says, ‘Staff Only’ on it. Based on the blueprints Alex has seen, this will lead down to the security observation room. “This fucking sucks. Even if there’s nothing going on, I need to report this. I hate paperwork.”

“Hey, I’m no happier than you are. If I get stuck here and miss the Mets game, someone here owes me a beer.”

“You’re a Mets fan?” Juan asks, one hand on the doorknob and his badge in the other hand, but he doesn’t unlock it.

“Sure, I like two teams. The Mets,” Alex grins, “and whoever is playing the Yankees.”

With an answering smile, Juan unlocks the door, pulls it open, and says, “After you, Miss Danvers.”

And just like that, Alex is in, and their appreciation for Lena, and Lena’s files, has grown.

<><>

Lena stands on the southwest corner of the roof of The Broad, her gaze steady toward the ocean that’s about ten miles away. It’s a hell of a view, but Kara remains closer to the center, and the view she’s taking in is even better. Lena looks like something out of a movie in her black bodysuit with the harness crisscrossing her torso. Kara is wearing a matching outfit (about which Lena was highly complementary and slightly inappropriate), but she doesn’t feel like she does it justice the way Lena’s curves do.

As a security expert, Kara has watched her share of heist movies. She and Alex critique the security, complain about unrealistic situations, and talk about how to plug holes to stop future thefts. The idea of crossing the line and taking part in the acquisition part of the theft has never crossed her mind before. Lena Luthor crosses a lot of lines, and Kara wonders how many more she’ll hop across to continue this dance.

When Lena walks across the roof ledge like she’s out for a Sunday stroll, Kara tenses, and her stomach drops. “Will you get down from there?”

“Me?” Lena glances back at Kara. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna fall.” Kara waves Lena back toward her. “Please?”

With a roll of her eyes, Lena turns back toward the street, flexes her knees, and springs backward. She does a backflip and lands safely on the roof, but Kara is already rushing forward.

“Lena!” Kara grabs Lena by the shoulders, spinning her. “What the fuck was that!?”

“What? I’m having some fun.” Head tilted to the side, Lena smiles up at Kara. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“Watching you nearly kill yourself before I commit grand larceny? No.” She walks away, shaking out her arms, but the stress refuses to follow. “You have a fucked up idea of fun.”

“Hey, hey.” Lena hurries across the roof to cut Kara off. “What’s going on? Are you scared?”

“Yeah, because this is scary.”

Green eyes narrow, and Kara can feel herself being evaluated. “Are you scared of heights?”

“No, no. Okay, yeah. I thought I would feel better after practicing on the wire in your apartment, but I never got higher than the second-story rail with that inflated safety pad underneath. If my harness slips or the line breaks, this could kill me.”

“Oh, hey, come here.”

Cradled in Lena’s arms feels better than Kara wants to admit. There’s been a lot of this lately, a lot of casual touches and stolen glances. Though Kara has tried to focus on the business, their shared attraction is undeniable. She’s sure the only reason she hasn’t fallen into bed with the other woman is Alex’s steady clam-jamming presence.

“Any better?”

Kara nods into Lena’s shoulder, enveloped by the smell of shampoo and a beautiful woman. “I’m okay now.” So she steps away, away from temptation, but the scent lingers. “Sorry about that.”

“You should have said something sooner. You and Alex could have switched… unless you wanted to be here with me.”

“Lena—”

_“Alex is in, and Maggie has intercepted the call for a unit from the cops and is on her way. It’s all going according to schedule.”_

“Winn says—” But Lena taps at her earpiece. “Right, you heard. Are you sure the weight of that vent can hold us both?”

“I’m a trained structural engineer, and I went over the blueprints three times. We’ll be fine.” She pulls the air vent grate off and grins. “Unless they used shoddy material and didn’t follow specs. Then we’re fucked.”

Before Kara can respond, Lena grabs the top of the vent and swings forward, sliding feet first inside and down, like a slide, into the darkness below.

“Not funny,” Kara mutters. “Winn, let me know when—”

_“Lena is ten feet along the vent line. You’re clear.”_

Kara flips on her headlamp, mutters a quick prayer, and slides down into the unknown. Only sucking in air in a quick gasp keeps Kara from screaming. The vent quickly turns, so instead of sliding at an angle, she’s dropping straight down about fifteen feet. Remembering her training, she braces her feet and gloved hands on the walls of the vent to slow but not stop her descent. She still lands solidly on the horizontal vent below, but an extra thick air mattress the width of the vent cushions her fall.

“You okay back there?”

“Yeah, terrified but unharmed. The inflatable did the job.” Kara adjusts her headlamp and scans her new surroundings. She’s been dumped out at a T-junction, just like on the blueprints. Left and right will take her around the edge of the building, but she wants to travel forward toward the center and their prize. “Hey, we’re wearing harnesses. We couldn’t have lowered ourselves down here on a wire?

“I mean, we could have, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Lena, your definition of fun—” About a foot from Kara’s face, her headlamp lights up Lena’s ass. Maybe this job isn’t all bad.

“Kara?”

“Fine, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

“Right. Let’s make like a baby and head out.” With that horrible pun, Lena slides onto her abdomen and begins to pull herself forward by her arms, her feet pushing off the side of the vent to help propel her forward.

Kara follows suit, belly-crawling after Lena. She has to admit, they’re making better time than she expected, and by not kneeling, they’re keeping the sound down. They crawl for maybe five minutes, though Kara would swear it’s closer to fifteen. This process is a lot sweatier than Kara had expected, a lot warmer than their practice crawls through vents set up in Lena’s hallway. Still, when Lena pulls to a stop ahead of her and announces, “We’re here,” Kara is a bit surprised. This is all getting so real.

Lena lies on her side and presses her back to one side of the vent leaving Kara enough room to crawl forward and mirror Lena. There’s about two inches between them, but Kara is more concerned about the space under their heads. It’s a one-story drop to the roof of the vault below, and the surface looks unforgiving. There’s no plush mattress and pile of pillows to cushion their fall if anything goes wrong.

“Are you sure that’s just one story? That looks further than one story. Do we even have enough cable?”

“Hey, relax.” Lena reaches out, brushing stray hairs behind Kara’s ear. “It’s only one story. You’ve done this.”

“Over a mattress.”

“And you never fell. I won’t let you fall.” Lena pushes off the wall of the vent, and the few inches between them disappear. Heat radiates off their bodies as they press close together, only the thin covering of their bodysuits separating them. “This is like a magic trick, Kara. Let me tell you a secret.” When Lena bites down on her lower lip, Kara’s gaze is drawn to the motion. Those full lips, so very kissable, call to her. She remembers their last kiss and how good Lena’s body felt under her touch. She can’t help but lean forward. Then Lena’s hand pulls from behind Kara’s ear, and she holds out a quarter between them. She presses it into Kara’s hand and smiles. “Magic is a lie in which we choose to believe. It’s all about distraction.”

_“Maggie’s about to enter the security room with Alex. Standby for the signal, ladies.”_

“Abracadabra.”

<><>

Alex has to admit that the security setup for The Broad is impressive. They have two security systems, each on a separate network. One controls the action of the museum that’s open to the public, and the other controls the vault. The latter has no Wi-Fi access, no way to hack into it from the outside, or so Lena and Winn say. All Alex knows is that the dongle in their pocket (and Alex thought Winn made that word up for shits and giggles until they looked it up) is the key to gaining access to the vault. All they need is to get the security officer who is sitting nearly directly in front of the system to slide about three feet to his left. What they need is a distraction.

Alex hears the distraction before they see her. For a small woman, Maggie's voice carries. Luckily, she isn’t much of a yeller, but as Alex’s neighbors know, she is a screamer.

When the door opens, the security guard who’s been sent to escort the police responder down to the security room is laughing at something Maggie’s said. She looks around the room, her gaze settling on Alex. “You the one that made me leave my coffee in the car?”

“Alex Danvers, DEO. I alerted them of the impending break-in, yes,” Alex replies. “Sorry about the coffee.”

Maggie shrugs, stepping around Alex and heading to stand on their other side. There’s a full array of security monitors there, showing every crevice of the museum. Only this is a video from last night, the time stamp matching up but the date changed by Lena and Winn. Only the video from inside the vault is a live feed, and Alex means to change that.

“Tell me why I’m here. I don’t hear any alarms.” Maggie steps by Alex and between two sitting guards, leaning on the backs of their chairs. “I don’t see anything. What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“As I told Miss Danvers,” Juan says, “our systems are all checking out. None of the guards have seen anything out of the ordinary. I think this is a false alarm. I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Detective.”

“You pay taxes. My time is your time.” Maggie says. “You have any other thoughts on this, Danvers?”

“Not at the moment.”

When Maggie looks back, they flash the dongle in their hand at her. The detective nods and says, “Your shoe’s untied.” Then she steps further away and points at the far monitor. “Hey, did you see that? I think I saw someone.”

While everyone’s attention is elsewhere, Alex crouches down to ‘tie their shoe’ and inserts the dongle into the tower on the floor. There’s no telltale light, but that’s by design. It’s supposed to blend not stand out.

“Never mind. I think it was one of your guards.” Maggie glances back and makes eye contact as Alex rises. “I respect DEO’s reputation, but I think you’re wrong about this one.”

“I hope I’m wrong. I need to get home in time to feed my cat,” Alex says.

_“Ooh, that’s my cue.”_ Several seconds of silence follow before Winn says, _“Okay, I have access to the vault monitors. I can’t shut off the floor sensors remotely, but they won’t see anything in here that we don’t want them to see. We control the horizontal. We control the vertical. Want me to do anything special with their monitors? I could play a different episode of She-Ra on each one.”_

“Stick with the damn plan,” Alex mutters.

“What was that, Miss Danvers?” Juan asks.

“Just talking out loud to myself. I wonder exactly what this thief is planning.”

“You think it’s the same gang that’s been hitting museums and galleries across Southern Cali?” Maggie asks.

“Yup.”

“Damn. Those guys are good, like really good. The FBI stepped in on that case. It seems they’re—” Maggie’s cut off when all of the monitors go black. “Well, that can’t be good.”

“Get those back online!” Juan’s easy-going attitude is gone in the face of a visible threat.

As quickly as the monitors went off, they’re back online. A red light flashes on one, alerting of a breach in one of the rooms.

“Where is that?” Juan asks.

“Infinity Mirrored Room, sir,” a guard responds. The alarms aren’t sounding, but we’re picking up motion. It looks like the light show is on. Maybe it’s a glitch?”

When Juan looks over at them, Alex shakes their head. “That’s no glitch. You have an intruder.”

“Well, let’s go.” Maggie doesn’t wait for an answer, just rushes around the guards and heads for the exit. “Danvers, are you coming?”

“Sure, I’d hate to miss all of the fun.”

Two of the guards lead the way while Juan and two others lag behind. Roughly in the middle, and with some distance between themselves and the others, Alex and Maggie talk among themselves in harsh whispers.

“You have any idea what we’re about to walk in on?” Maggie asks.

“None. I just know there’s a distraction on the far side of the museum. I was told the less I knew the more realistic my reaction would be.”

“It better not be dogs,” Maggie says. “I have a scar on my ass from my aunt’s damn chihuahua, TB.”

“Taco Bell. Yeah, I remember.” Alex grins down at Maggie. “To be fair to TB, your ass is very nibbleable.”

Maggie smiles back. “Jeez, the kinks you find out about only after you’ve broken up with a person.”

The group pulls up outside of a small room, visible on all sides. Shifting lights glow from under the door, showing it is very much active. Maggie steps past the guards and grabs the door handle. “I’ve got this. Danvers?”

“Right behind you.”

Maggie pulls the door open, and they’re immediately blinded by flashing LED lights. Countless mirrored reflections are set against NYC’s skyline at night. There’s a small platform in the middle of the room with two people lying on it. Their bodies grind together, illuminated over and over again in the infinite reflections of their make-out session. It definitely isn’t a chihuahua.

“What the fuck?” Maggie asks, and Alex has to agree. Kara is the one who arranged for this little distraction, and it will be discussed in length when this is all over.

At the sound of a voice, Nia and Querl stop their frantic heavy petting and seemingly first notice their audience.

“Did you invite someone to join us?” Nia asks.

“No, I thought you knew them,” Querl responds as he stands and helps Nia to her feet. “Ladies.”

“Uh…” Alex picks up Nia’s shirt from the floor and tosses it at her. “Get dressed. We all need to talk.”

<><>

Kara’s hands are a clammy mess as she slowly descends on a strong but terrifyingly thin-looking rope. If she wasn’t wearing gloves, she wouldn’t be able to get any kind of grip. The trip from the vent to the roof of the vault was bad enough, but at least that was only one story. She’s now two stories over the alarmed floor below and moving toward the glass case below.

Lena already hovers from her line like a spider, smiling up at Kara. It only made sense for the professional to go down first. She made it look easy, far easier than the reality is.

Kara’s mind races with everything that can go wrong. No amount of practice and planning prepared her for the reality of a possible crippling fall to the floor below or being discovered by security. Her only solace is that if she gets arrested, she’s sure she won’t have a problem getting a girlfriend in prison.

“How nice of you to join me,” Lena says when Kara’s trembling form finally reaches her. “How are you doing?”

“Awful. This feels awful. I don’t like crime, Lena. I don’t think I’ll even be able to jaywalk after this.”

“Aww, my poor darling. Remember we’re not actually stealing. We’re borrowing to stop someone else from stealing.” She shrugs, somehow looking as at home dangling from a line as she does in a tight dress with a whiskey in her hand. “We’re actually doing a good deed.”

“Uh-huh. I haven’t forgotten that we only have to do this ‘good deed’ because of your crimes.”

“And Edge’s.”

Now is not the time to argue. Kara is beginning to spin a bit from moving around. She can add motion sickness to her fear of heights. “Can we just get done with this so we can get out of here?”

“And here I thought you were a bigger fan of foreplay.” Before Kara can answer, Lena says, “Mr. Schott says the alarm on the case is off. Lift it for me, please?”

“Mr. Schott better be right.” Ever so carefully, Kara reaches out and touches the case under which the Kazanjian red diamond is housed. It’s smaller than Kara expected. It’s still huge for a diamond, and it’s as red as a ruby, but something about the pricetag made Kara think it wouldn’t fit in her pocket. Her hands tremble until she grabs the case, steadying herself. When no alarms blare and guards rush in, Kara breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

_“Ye of little faith.”_

“Sorry, Winn.” The case actually lifts off fairly easily, though it’s not light. Kara holds her breath until Lena lifts the diamond.

She turns it over in her hand, smiling at Kara. “Not bad for a day’s work.”

“Just put it in your pouch so we can get out of here.”

Lena does, but when Kara tries to put the case back, she says. “Not yet. You forgot… this.”

Kara stares at the object Lena is holding. “Seriously? You’re ridiculous.”

“Edge has a reputation to keep up. Matching this MO will link it more easily to the other crimes.”

That makes sense, but Kara could still do without Lena’s sense of the dramatic.

“You two need to get moving. Alex just dropped their line to let me know they’re about to march Nia and Querl out. They’ll go right by your ropes in a few minutes.”

“We’re done here. Ready?”

“Let’s go.” Together they press the buttons, and their motors wind the rope back in, pulling them up. They’re about halfway up when Lena stops.

“What’s wrong?” Kara asks, stopping also.

“I think I have a kink in my line.” She grabs the line in both hands and pulls herself up. “Keep going. I’m right behind you once I fix this.”

Though Kara doesn’t like it, Lena is the expert here. So she continues up, actually clearing the entrance back to the roof of the vault. She turns just in time to see Lena going from hanging a floor above ground to Lena’s rope suddenly releasing as she free falls down.

“Lena!”

Her rope doesn’t disconnect though, and she stops several feet short of the actual floor. The rope bungis her a bit, and she bounces a few feet back up before falling with a moan.

“Lena?” The woman hangs limply for a moment, and Kara is about to head back down, her fear of heights forgotten, when Lena reaches up to grab her rope. “Lena, can you hear me? Are you okay?” Lena waves back at her, and Kara clutches at her pounding heart.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, but there’s a tightness to her voice that lets Kara know she’s in pain. “I just have the mother of all wedgies. I don’t think I’m going to be wearing thong underwear for a bit.”

“That’s a shame,” Kara mutters to herself. “What happened?”

“The motor gave out on my harness.” She twists and turns, grabbing the rope with her other hand and pulling herself to a vertical position. “I can climb up. It’s just going to take me a few minutes.”

“We don’t have a few minutes.” So Kara wraps Lena’s rope around her forearm and pulls. Hand over hand, she hauls an astounded looking Lena closer and closer. Her shoulders ache, and she’s grateful for both the gloves and every hour she’s spent at the gym. When Lena finally reaches up through the hole and pulls herself to shoulder height, Kara grabs and pulls her the rest of the way up.

Still clinging to Kara, Lena says, “Oh, my God. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t know about that but—” Then Lena’s lips crash into hers, and all thoughts of what she was about to say disappear.

Kneeling on the roof of the vault, they kiss with all of the passion they’ve been denying themselves for the last month. Their hands roam as they get lost in each other.

_“Guys, you need to get moving. What’s the holdup?”_

“Winn.” Kara pulls back her head, painfully aware of her environment and her audience. “Right, sorry. We just… motor issue. We’re on our way.” Then Kara unbelts her motor and hands it to Lena. “I can climb.”

Lena moans even as she belts the motor into place. “Tell me, Kara, have you ever thrown a woman over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes?”

Kara grins and pulls herself up to hang by one arm. “I’ll see you at the top.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

They make it back to the shaft, and Lena uses a folding grappling hook in what looks like a gun to launch their escape rope up. It unfurls when the end of the rope tugs against her belt, and she pulls it back, making sure it’s solidly in place before ascending. Kara follows up a few minutes later.

As the fresh air hits her, Kara takes a deep breath and smiles. Now that the actual danger is over, there is a bit of fun to all of this, the excitement of what they just did. Lena’s smiling face tells Kara that she feels the same.

“Okay, I’m not saying I want to quit my day job, but that was kind of fun.”

“You were excellent.” Lena steps close, running her hands over Kara’s biceps. “I never thought I could work with a partner, but that was one hell of an interview. You’re hired. When can you start?”

Kara laughs, but when Lena doesn’t it becomes clear to Kara that she’s the only one joking. “Lena, no. This was a one time deal to save your friend and put Edge away, I’m not ready to quit my day job.”

“Why not?” She runs her hands over Kara’s shoulders, threading them behind the blonde’s neck. “We make a hell of a team, you and I. We could travel the world, see beautiful works of art… steal them. It would be fun.”

“Not for me. I’m a California girl and a security expert.” When Lena tries to pull away, Kara holds on tight. “You could go straight.”

Lena snorts. “That I definitely can’t do.”

“You know what I mean. Does an honest life, maybe with someone special, really sound so bad?”

“Honestly?” Kara holds her breath as she waits for this answer, until Lena says, “No, it doesn’t. Somehow you make working for a living sound like a good idea. I just don’t know if it’s for me.”

“I get that. I do.” And Kara does. She’s seen Lena at her happiest, hanging from a wire as she tucks a $50 million diamond into a pouch. As much as Kara wants them to be together, as much as Kara believes stealing is wrong, you can’t be the person that takes your partner’s happiness away. Kara also can’t change who she is. “But the life of crime isn’t for me. I’m not a thief.”

Lena nods. The look in her eyes says she expected as much, but she is an optimist. She presses a kiss to Kara’s cheek, far less impassioned but no less intimate than what they just shared and says, “My heart says otherwise.”

<><>

It’s taken a bit of convincing to get into the vault, but with a detective by her side, and after pointing out the lines hanging over the vault, Juan has no choice but to have the motion sensor shut down so they can enter. They call it ‘the vault’ for a reason. Works of art are housed throughout in a room that’s sealed up tight… mostly.

“What’s the most expensive thing you have in here?” Alex asks as they look around at artwork after artwork.

“The most expensive?” Juan asks. “That would be the Kazanjian red. It’s a big diamond, worth more than anyone like us will make in their lifetimes.”

“Show us,” Maggie says.

So he leads them down an aisle and around a corner to where a glass display case sits out. Even from a distance, the red object inside is visible, and Juan breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank God. We would have been screwed if that was gone.”

As they get closer, Alex squints, examining the gem in the case. It’s only with great willpower that they don’t chuckle while telling the head of security, “Buddy, I have some bad news for you. That’s a cherry Ring Pop.”

<><>

Lena’s car idles in a parking lot about halfway between Edge’s house and the museum. The plan was simple from here. Lena drops Kara off here, and Maggie follows afterward to drop off Alex. When the Danvers are out of the way, Len heads over to Edge’s place so she and Maggie can play a game of cops and robbers. The only fly in the ointment is that this feels like goodbye, and Kara doesn’t seem to want to leave any more than Lena is eager to tell her to go.

“I should go in with you.”

“Kara, Morgan is expecting me. I can’t bring a plus one to this event.” She pulls Kara’s hand to her lips. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Thank you for helping me and giving me this chance to save Jess. I’ll never forget you.”

Kara holds firm when Lena tries to take her hand back. “That sounds a lot like goodbye. I don’t think I’m ready to say that.”

“Even though I just convinced you to commit a felony?”

“This is date number three. When you promised me something unseemly, you weren’t kidding.”

And Lena laughs, loose and free the way she lives her life. Far quicker than she ever thought could be possible, Kara Danvers has wormed her way into Lena’s heart. It’s unexpected but not unwelcome. “Oh, I meant something else, but honestly, this is the best date I’ve ever had. I don’t think any other woman can top this.” This time when they kiss, it’s soft. The longing is pushed to the side, and they make a connection of a different sort, but it can’t last. “Now get out of my car, so I can go meet a very bad man about a very hot rock.”

Though she could doubtless make excuses forever, Kara nods and steps out. She closes the door but leans by the passenger window. “Maybe we could do a real date number three tonight?”

“Sure, you pick the museum. I’ll meet you there.” Then she speeds away, watching Kara disappear in her rearview mirror. Only the knowledge that Jess needs her keeps Lena driving.

Lena has turned down invitations to Edge’s home before. It’s an ostentatious piece of new construction set on the top of a hill. He’s like a medieval lord looking down on his peasants. Perhaps that’s a bit of a hypocritical comparison coming from a billionaire who lives in a penthouse, but Lena still thinks it’s fair.

An older woman, who looks like her face froze while sucking on a lemon and vaguely reminds her of her mother, ushers Lena inside to wait in the library. It’s filled with first editions, and Lena would bet a considerable portion of her fortune that he doesn’t read them or even like them. Edge is the kind of person who doesn’t collect. He possesses. She’s met the likes of him before, and she’s always taken great pleasure in stealing from them.

“Miss Luthor.” Sam has gotten further and further into Edge’s good graces in the past two weeks. There’s something about a very pretty face and falsified documents that make her look needy that he really likes in a woman. “Morgan will see you now.”

Lena follows along, passing by expensive but tacky works of art as they go. Most of it she wouldn’t even bother stealing. “This place is ghastly. Mr. Edge is ghastly. How can you work for him?”

“Well, some people’s trash is another person’s treasure,” Sam replies noncommittally.

“Yes, but sometimes you just need to take out the trash.”

Speaking of trash, Morgan waits for Lena in his den. His black, silk button-up shirt is open far enough to show off some chest hairs and a gold chain. He sits in his high-back leather chair, twisting his pinky ring like a dime-store godfather. “Miss Luthor, and here I thought you were going to stand me up.”

“Well, that is the proper protocol for a woman forced to be in your presence, but unfortunately for me, I have more pressing concerns than your halitosis, so here I am. I’d rather not be though, so can we just get this over with?”

“I heard the police were en route to The Grand. I was worried you got yourself caught on purpose so you didn’t have to complete our deal.”

Lena snorts. “Nonsense. My ego won’t let me get caught. Also, you’re such a prick, I’m sure you’d frame Jessica just to hurt me for it.”

“Maybe they’d let you two share a cell.” Edge heads over to the bar and pours himself some whiskey. “You know, our relationship doesn’t have to be unpleasant, Lena. Just look at Samantha. She and I have gotten very close in the past few weeks. Doesn’t she look happy?”

“What does he have on you?” Lena asks Sam.

“It’s about money,” Sam replies. “I need it, and Morgan has a lot of it. I’m in debt up to my eyeballs. It was a huge problem.” She smiles over at Edge. “Past tense.”

“Ugh, money is the root of all evil.”

“Says someone whose car costs more than my house.”

“I know just how much damage money can do.” Lena steps up close to Sam, though she's hardly intimidating with the other woman looming over her. “Trust me, I’d trade all of my money for a real connection with the right person.”

Sam snorts. “That’s easy to say when you’ve never been poor. I’ve been a homeless, pregnant teenager, thrown out by my own mother. I’ll take the money.”

“Ladies, ladies, this is no time to fight. After our little transaction is done, if you two want to go a few rounds, I’ll get you a pool of pudding to wrestle in.” Edge’s smile is oily, and Lena assumes there’s more than a little bit of truth to his comment.

“Maybe we should just finish up our business so Miss Luthor can go home to her castle,” Sam says.

“Fine.” Edge waves a hand around. “Do you have it?”

“I do, but you’re not touching it until we come to an agreement,” Lena replies.

“It needs to be authenticated,” Sam says. She holds out a hand to Lena.

“You’re kidding, right? I’m supposed to trust you?”

“What choice do you have? It’s me or him?”

Lena hesitates, but she reaches into an inner pocket on her coat and pulls out a small cloth, handing it over to Sam. Unfurling it reveals the red gem in question.

Sam heads over to a table where jeweler’s tools sit. “This will take a few minutes.”

“I need a drink.” Without asking, Lena heads over to Edge’s bar and pours herself a generous glass of whiskey. “You know it doesn’t serve my interests to cheat you, Edge. I just want to get this done and never see you again.”

“Oh, come on, Lena. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“I’d sooner french kiss a Metropolis street rat than keep company with you, Edge. At least it would have a certain… pedigree.”

Edge grabs Lena by the hair, pulling her closer. “You should learn to watch your tongue. If you want to keep your little friend out of jail, you work for me from now on.”

“That’s bullshit. You said I only had to do one job. I did it and—”

“Lena,” he releases his grip on her hair to stroke it softly, “as soon as you said yes, you chose your friend’s freedom over your own. I collect rare and beautiful treasures. Welcome to the collection.”

“Fuck you, Edge!”

He chuckles and steps away. “That’s optional.”

“It’s authentic,” Sam says, interrupting the verbal sparring session. “5.05 carats with four extra facets above the normal cut. It’s the Kazanjian red.”

“Well, little Lena Luthor does not disappoint.”

“No!” Lena storms across the room and snatches the diamond out of the cloth in Sam’s hand. “We had a deal. There is no way in hell I’m working for you.”

“Fine,” Edge says, “Then you can visit Jessica in jail. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“You’re disgusting.” Lena drops the gem into her whiskey and puts the glass on the table. “This won’t be forever, Edge. I’m going to figure a way out of this.”

When her phone chimes, Sam frowns down at it. Then she leans in close to Edge, one hand on his shoulder, and whispers something.

He frowns in return. “Go see what they want.”

As Sam leaves, Lena asks, “Problem?”

“For you, maybe. The police are here. If you led them to my door—”

“Please, mistakes are for amateurs. If the police are here, they’re here for you, not me.”

They continue to take turns glaring and throwing barbs at each other for a few minutes until Edge’s phone chimes. This time he smiles and texts something back. “I guess you got sloppier than you thought, Lena.”

“What does that mean?” When he doesn’t answer, she repeats, “What does that mean?”

The answer comes in the way of Detective Maggie Sawyer. Fresh from the museum, she holds a lot of authority in her small frame. “Mr. Edge, thank you for letting me in. Understand that I’m not here executing a search warrant. I’m following up on a lead about a robbery from earlier this evening. Your assistant, Miss Arias, let me in. She said she had your permission.”

“She does. I have nothing to hide, Detective. So, tell me, why are you here?”

“The Kazanjian red diamond was stolen from The Grand tonight. I received a tip telling me that I’d find the gem and the thief here.”

“Lena, is there anything you’d like to say to the detective?” When Lena opens her mouth, he adds, “and any message for Jessica?”

“Yes.” Lena nods first at Edge’s smug face and then at Maggie. “I was that tip, Detective. Mr. Edge brought me here to try and sell me a stolen diamond. I thought it was my duty, as a concerned citizen, to call the police. Our mutual friend, Kara Danvers, told me you were trustworthy and gave me your number.”

“You called the police.” Edge laughs, but when Lena and Maggie don’t say anything else, just watch him carefully, he seems to understand things are not as they seem. “This is ridiculous. You aren’t falling for this, are you, Detective?”

“She did call me,” Maggie says. “She gave me this address and told me you had offered to sell her the diamond for $25 million.”

“That’s insane. The diamond is in her glass. Her fingerprints are all over it.”

As Edge points out the glass, Maggie crosses the room, looks inside the glass, and then pours the contents out onto the table. When whiskey splashes but no gem comes out, even once the glass is completely upside down, Edge blanches.

“That’s… impossible. I saw her put it in there. Samantha,” he calls out to Sam who hovers in the doorway, “tell the detective where you saw the diamond.”

“Of course, Mr. Edge.” Sam crosses into the middle of the room and then points directly at Edge. “I saw him put it in his coat pocket.”

“That’s a fucking lie!”

“Empty your pockets,” Maggie says.

“Fine, but you’re not going to find—” he pauses as he digs around in his jacket pockets and then slowly pulls a red gem out of it. “This is impossible. How?” He looks up at Lena. “How?”

Lena shrugs. “Oh, Edge, don’t you know that crime doesn’t pay?”

“Morgan Edge, you’re under arrest for—”

He’s on the move before Maggie can get her cuffs out. Edge grabs Sam and pulls her close even as he snatches a dangerously pointy looking tool from the table and pushes it to her throat. He turns Sam so her back is to him and takes a sliding step toward the door.

“You’re not even going to make it out of the house, Edge,” Maggie says, her pistol aimed at him though Sam is largely in the way. “Just give up.”

“Why? I have homes in countries without extradition, private planes, and more passports than you’ll ever find. I’m going to disappear, and she,” Edge pushes the tool against Sam’s throat, dimpling her flesh, “is my insurance policy.”

“Morgan, you don’t want to do this,” Lena says. “Once you start running, you never stop.”

“Don’t worry, Lena.” He inches back closer and closer toward the doorway as he speaks. “You’ll see me again. Now I owe you, and I always repay my debts.”

He reaches the doorway but gets no farther. A vase comes crashing down onto the back of his head, courtesy of Alex Danvers. He stumbles away, giving the space to grab Sam by the hand and pulls her close. Edge isn’t down though. He’s stumbling, disoriented, but he still has fight left in him. That all changes when Kara runs in and spear-tackles him. She finishes him off with a fist to the jaw that leaves him unconscious and makes her shake the pain out of her hand.

Pieces of vase cling to Edge’s hair and suit, and larger chunks are scattered across the floor. Edge lays unmoving save for the slight shift from his steady breaths. His scalp is bleeding freely, a small pool starting to collect around the crown of his head.

“You… Alex…”

“Are you okay?” Alex touches Sam carefully, moving from her hands, up her arms, and across the woman’s face. It’s not intimacy; it’s concern. “Did he hurt you?”

“Did _he_ hurt _me_?” Sam says, and Edge moans as if to emphasize her point. “You smashed him over the head. That was… amazing!”

At Sam’s stunning smile, the one she hasn’t graced Alex with in weeks, they smile back. “Maggie told us to wait in the car, but neither Kara nor I are good at following orders. Then I saw him grab you and I just… God, I was so scared, Sam. Were you scared?”

Sam doesn’t respond, just kneels down and recovers one of the larger chunks of vase. As she turns it over in her hand, her eyes widen. “Oh, my God. This was a Ming vase. Alex, you smashed a Ming vase.” She holds the piece up toward Alex. “This was priceless!”

Alex steps closer, pulling the chunk from Sam’s hand and tossing it over their shoulder. They don’t react when it strikes something hard, and the sound of breaking vase repeats itself. Alex’s hands cradle Sam’s face, and with all the sincerity in their heart, they say, “No, Sam, it was just a piece of pottery. You’re priceless.”

“Are you okay?” Lena asks as Kara cradles her hand.

“Oh, sure.” Kara winces when Lena takes her hand and gently probes the knuckles. “You should see the other guy,”

“The other guy is under arrest.” Maggie closes the second cuff over his wrist. “I’ve got to wait until he wakes up to read him his rights. I did appreciate the evil villain dialogue as to why he’ll jump bail if a judge allows it. That will come in handy.”

“Detective?” Sam is still staring into Alex’s eyes as she speaks. “Mr. Edge has a safe in his office. He was talking about the recent theft of the Seated Buddha, and then he went to his safe. I don’t know if he put it in there but…” She finally manages to break eye contact with Alex. “You should probably get a warrant.”

“Way ahead of you.” Maggie walks to the side, talking to the station as she leans against the wall. This will be a colossal bust, and they haven’t even looked at any of Edge’s files yet.

“I have one question for you about what just happened,” Kara says.

“Just one? I expect the police will have dozens,” Lena replies. “Go on.”

“What happened to the diamond? How did it end up in Edge’s pocket, and how did you make it look like you put it into your drink? Winn was giving us updates, and he’s swearing you’re a wizard.”

“Maybe in bed.” Lena smiles, satisfied when a little whimper slips out of Kara. “It wasn’t magic, not in that sense. It was slight of hand. I’d tell you, but a good magician doesn’t reveal their tricks.”

Kara pouts, her full on, manipulative expression which is only more powerful when your hand is swelling due to your heroic deeds.

“Good Lord, Alex was right. That pout is powerful. Fine, I’ll tell you since you were my assistant today, but you have to keep it a secret.”

With a motion of zippering, locking, and throwing away the key to her lips, Kara nods.

“Sam switched the real diamond with the fake, and cleaned the real one to remove my fingerprints, while she was supposedly evaluating it. Then she handed me back the fake, which was just crystalized sugar, and I dropped it into the whiskey where it dissolved.”

“But how did—”

“Edge get the real one?” Lena gestures over toward where Alex and Sam are deep within their private moment. “Sam did that. She dropped it in his pocket when she leaned in to tell him Maggie was here. Men like Edge underestimate women, especially attractive ones, and their own ego doesn’t let them think it’s anything but desire when one touches him.”

“So Sam planted the real one on Edge?” Kara whistles, one solid note stretching out. “You are such a bad influence, Miss—” Then Lena touches what must be a particularly tender spot, and Kara hisses in a breath.

“We should probably get your hand x-rayed. It could be broken,” Lena says.

“No, it’s—” Kara tries to bend her fingers and yelps. “Yeah, you could be right.”

“That’s what you get for punching stupid, pig-headed men. What were you thinking?”

“Uh, I was thinking he could hurt Sam… or you.”

Lena has had a lifetime of disappointment when it comes to other people. She barely remembers her birth mother, her adoptive mother is the least maternal person on the planet, her father was an unscrupulous businessman who drank himself to an early grave, and her brother seems to be following in his legacy. When she finally trusted enough to let herself fall in love, her faith was met with betrayal. She’s always felt that Jessica is the exception to the rule, the one truly trustworthy person in life, but maybe she just needs to learn some new rules.

“You’re amazing, you know.” Lena kisses each of Kara’s bruised and swelling knuckles in turn. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Like me? You convinced me to break into a museum and dangle from the ceiling, and as frightening as it and everything else was today, I kind of had fun. Lena, I don’t think there is anyone like you to meet.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment. So, where do we go from here? I’ve never considered a life where I didn’t have the rush of the job.”

“And my job is to stop you. If you look at it that way, we make better enemies than—”

“Lovers?” When Kara’s eyes widen at the word choice, Lena knows they’re on the same page. “How do you think your sibling would feel about you dating a criminal?”

But Alex and Sam are lost in their own world. A world of whispers and gentle kisses, one that doesn’t include anyone else in the world but them.

“Yeah, I don’t think Alex will be a problem for a little while,” Kara says.

“Then how do we work this out? How do we not give up each other or who we truly are?” That really is the crux of the situation. Is there a way for them not to lose themselves now that they’ve found each other?

“I have an idea if you’re game.”

“Darling, I’m always game. Try me.”

Kara puts her other arm around Lena’s waist and pulls her in close. “Oh, I intend to.” Their kiss is soft and loving, full of the promise of many more to come, a lifetime more to come. They’re as lost, as much in their own world as Sam and Alex. In the way of cases, this was certainly the most successful of the Danvers sibling’s career. They both have found love, and all Kara needed to find her happily ever after was to catch a thief.


	13. Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

“Winn, give me an update.”

Hands on hips, Kara stands in the security room of the Smithsonian Institute in Washington DC as guards spread out through the museum. Only two remain with her, and their hurried motions and tension tell her they understand the seriousness of this situation. They’ve had a breach in a system that management guaranteed her was unbreachable. Kara has been around too long and seen too much to believe in the perfect security system, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep working to perfect one.

_“Okay, I’ve overridden the alarm override. Man, this was some prime hacking. Do you think—”_

“Winn, update me now and fanboy later. Are the cameras back online?”

_“Negative. I keep getting rerouted to episodes of that old cartoon, Gargoyles, and may I say, it’s an underrated show.”_

As much as Kara appreciates Winn’s work, these are the sorts of comments that get him on Alex’s bad side, and Kara can see why. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a gem, but it’s not the one we’re looking for. What can you tell me?”

_“Um… I have control of the elevators again. They’re all locked in place one level below the roof.”_

“Keep them there. Wait, send the security elevator down to me ASAP.”

_“On its way.”_

It only takes seconds for the elevator to arrive, and Kara steps inside, a little surprised to see it vacant. She hops up, knocking the hatch open before jumping, grabbing the lip, and pulling herself up. Hanging in a chin-up position, all she sees are elevator bits. She’s alone.

_“Looking for anyone in particular?”_

“It would be just like her to escape through the security room. She loves the dramatic touch.” She drops back down, toes tapping out her anxiety. “Winn, we’re running out of time. This thief isn’t going to just hang around all day waiting to be caught.”

_“I know. I know. Do you think I don’t know? I know. Oh, wait, motion sensors are back online. Take that, Demona.”_

“Who?”

_“Oh, Demona is the female antagonist on Gargoyles. She’s tough and kind of hot if you like the winged, claw-footed, bad girl with a tail who turns to stone in sunlight type.”_

“Winn,” Kara threatens with just his name, but it lacks Alex’s bite.

_“Yeah, yeah. Okay, you have motion in the basement, ground floor, level two, and on the roof. Pinging your security guards to locate where they are and— The roof! You have no security on the roof. She’s there.”_

“On my way.” Pushing the button multiple times doesn’t move the elevator faster, but that fact doesn’t stop Kara from trying.

_“Hey, Ruby wants to know if you’re coming home tonight or tomorrow. There’s a movie she wants to see, but you promised to take her. She’s asking me to buy tickets.”_

“It should be tonight now that we’ve reached this stage. Can you reach out and get the plane fueled and ready for departure?”

_“Sure, want me to turtle wax your car while I’m at it?”_

Kara chuckles and resists the urge to answer in the affirmative. The way Alex has Winn jumping at commands, he just might do it. “How is Ruby doing without Sam or Alex? Is she okay?”

_“With her Uncle Winn? She’s having a grand time. It’s video games and pizza every night.”_

“You promised Sam she’d eat her vegetables.” It may be a bit hypocritical for Kara to say, but her lack of ability to get anyone to eat their vegetables is exactly why Winn was tasked with the job of childcare.

_“We had broccoli pizza last night and spinach pizza for lunch. I’m a man of my word.”_

“I doubt that meets Sam’s definition of vegetables, but your secret is safe with me. So long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”

_“She’s happy. She doesn’t miss her parents.”_

“Oof, don’t tell Sam that. The only thing worse than telling her Ruby misses her is telling her Ruby doesn’t miss her. That’s likely to get Alex abandoned on a beach in Mexico to enjoy the rest of their honeymoon alone.”

_“Mum’s the word.”_

When the elevator opens on the top floor, Kara runs, full steam, up the stairs, and bursts into the daylight which is blinding after her stint in the basement. Hand shielding her face, it only takes seconds for Kara to locate the perpetrator standing on the edge of the building. It fills her with a sense of nostalgia, reminding her of that night in San Diego where she originally came face to masked face with her nemesis. She can’t help but smile.

“Give it up, Luthor. You’ve got no place left to run.”

Lena turns with the Hope Diamond dangling from her hand. It’s a 45.52-carat blue diamond surrounded by sixteen white diamonds on a necklace made up of another forty-five white diamonds. It’s believed to be cursed, having been on the Titanic when she went down, and many of its owners have met with unfortunate and untimely deaths. If Lena is concerned about such superstitions, she doesn’t show it as she stands perilously close to the edge.

“Could you get down from there?” Kara asks. “It doesn’t look like you’re wearing a safety harness. You’re making me nervous.”

Though she rolls her eyes, Lena hops down onto the rooftop and steps further from the edge. “I have an excellent sense of balance, you know.” She waggles her brows. “Years of gymnastics have paid off.”

“Oh, I know just how limber you are.” Kara takes a step forward, feeling herself falling under that seductive spell after just a few words. She shakes it off, tries to school a serious expression on her face. “Come on, hand it over. You have a very nervous security force down there. They want their rocks back.”

“No, I stole it fair and square. Anyway, wouldn’t it look fabulous on me? What do you think?” She holds the necklace up to her chest, modeling it with a smile that is even more stunning than the jewel itself.

It does look great even if Kara won’t admit it. “There is no such thing as ‘fair and square’ stealing. You’ve proven your point. Their security has a hole in it. Now they can pay us to fix it.”

“A hole?” Lena rolls her eyes. “I counted six escape routes.”

“Six?” This is exactly why Lena makes a great partner in the security business. Who better to find and seal up weaknesses than a (semi) reformed master thief. “I only counted four. You have two exits from the roof, north and west. You could have taken the elevator through the security room once you distracted the remaining two guards… which I assumed you already know how to do.” Lena’s smirk proves her right. “Then there are the air ducts. They’re too wide. You could fit through them and get out any number of ways. What did I miss?”

“Any of the elevator shafts. You kept them locked up on a higher floor. I could repel down the shaft. There are no motion sensors or cameras there.”

“Right, right, I should have seen that. That was my bad.” And Kara appreciates that keen bit of insight, as she always appreciates Lena’s clever mind. It’s the continued dramatic escapes with priceless artwork she could do without. “What’s the sixth one?”

“The laundry chute from the executive suite. It goes to the basement, no motion sensors, no cameras, no alarms.”

“There is no way your—” When Lena crops a brow, Kara grins. “No way would your _assets_ fit down that chute. I measured it. It’s kid wide, and you have an adult’s body… very adult.”

“Thank you for noticing, and you’re right. But there’s plenty of room for some laundry with the diamond inside it to fit down there.” Lena reaches into her pocket, pulling out some sort of laminated ID on a lanyard. “The amount of security clearance you need to get hired doing laundry here is laughable.”

“Oh, my God.” Kara facepalms at that little revelation, sneaking a peek through her fingers as she says, “You got a job working in the laundry room just to prove a point? You’re… astounding.”

“Thank you. I live to impress.”

“And you have, but right now you need to give back your latest toy before armed guards spill out onto the roof.”

Lena just shrugs, seemingly unfazed at the potential of being rushed by embarrassed and armed guards. “Winn would tell me if that were going to happen.”

_“Yup.”_

“Traitor,” Kara mutters, but she knows Winn plays both sides in this bit of roleplaying. After all, it’s only fair… or so Lena tells her. “Just hand over the necklace.”

“This bauble?” Lena twirls the necklace on her finger, spinning it around and around and making Kara’s stomach sink. She is not insured against Lena yeeting the Hope Diamond off the roof of the Smithsonian and down to the pavement below. “If they didn’t want me to steal it, they shouldn’t make it so easy.”

“Easy?” The one thing that definitely isn’t easy is the way Lena makes her work for every piece of stolen valuable before returning it. “This is a federally owned building with some of the tightest, non-military security the US has. Your definition of easy needs some work.”

“I thought you liked my definition of easy,” Lena practically purrs.

_“Are you guys going to get weird on the roof of the Smithsonian? After that little **incident** at the MOMA, from which I’m still scarred, you promised to keep things PG-13. I’m logging off if this gets heated.”_

Kara ignores him and instead takes several steps closer to Lena. “I’ll trade you.”

“Trade me? This is a $350 million dollar diamond, Miss Danvers.” Lena holds the necklace up, and it sparkles in the sunlight, as an array of light reflects from its many facets. “What could you possibly offer me in exchange?”

“This.” Kara pulls a small box from her pants pocket and sinks to one knee, opening the box to reveal the diamond ring inside. It doesn’t come close to the number of carats the Hope Diamond offers, but to Kara, it holds far more value. “Lena Kieran Luthor, you’ve been driving me crazy since the day we met. You challenge me on everything, always needing to prove that you’re the smartest person in the room, make questionable moral choices at times, and you make every moment of every day with you an adventure that I never want to end. Will you make me the happiest, and sometimes craziest, woman in the world and do me the honor of being my wife?”

For once, it’s Lena who’s left speechless. Her mouth opens and closes, soundless, several times before she steps forward, sinks to her knees, and practically tosses the necklace at Kara. “Take it.”

“Is that a yes then?”

“Yes, definitely yes. Always and forever with you, yes.” She’s crying by the time Kara slips the ring onto her finger. It’s been two years since she saw Kara Danvers in her gallery, two years since her carefully planned thefts to enact justice led her to something even more valuable… love.

_“Um, guys? Security is on its way. Guys?”_ As they kiss, they ignore Winn, his voice little more than white noise, drowned out by the thudding of their hearts. _“Seriously, guys, what did I say about not making it weird? This is weird. Are you going to stop or… I’m out of here.”_

Lena peppers Kara’s face with kisses, repeating the word, “Forever,” over and over again as security swarms the roof. It may be an unorthodox beginning to the next stage of their relationship, but normal is for other people, and they prefer extraordinary. And that’s exactly what they’ve found in each other.


End file.
